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Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductlons  /  Instltut  canadlen  de  microreproductlons  historiques 


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24  x 

28x 

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dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
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la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — •-  signifie  "A  SUIVRE ',  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


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required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  etre 
film^s  ^  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
LorsquG  le  document  >jst  trop  grand  pour  etre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  filmd  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Las  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TES'    CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


m  mil  2.8 


I.I 


1.25 


1.4 


III 


12.2 
2.0 

1.8 
1.6 


d  /APPLIED  IM/IGE     Inc 

;^r"  1653    East   Mam    Street 

~—  Rociieste;,   New   York        14609       USA 

!s=  (716)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 

SSS  (716)   2S8  -  b989  -  Fax 


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THETYPSY  QUEEN'S  VO^ 


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-/    • 


BY 


Mrs.  may  AGNES  FLEMING 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  DARK  SECRET,"  "THE  QUFEN   OF  THE   ISLE,"  "THE 

HEIRESS  OF  CASTLE  CLIFF,"   "  MAGDALEN'S   VOW,"   "THE 

MIDNIGHT  QUEEN,"  "THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS,"  ETC- 


COFYBIGHT,   1875,   BY  BEADLE  &  ADAMS. 


1«:W  YORK 

HURST  &  COMPANY 

rUBLISHERS 


j<lr^l 


ML    i: 


*/.       -^    aV  "— t. 


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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTBR  PACK 

1.  Night  and  Storm 5 

II.  Mr.  Toosypegs y 

III.  The  Lovers 17 

IV.  The  Gypsy's  Vow 26 

V.  Mother  and  Son 30 

VI.  The  Child-Wife 37 

VII.  The  Mother's  Despair 49 

VIII.  Mr.  Toosypegs  "  Turns  up  "  Again 55 

IX.  The  Secret  Revealed 63 

X.  The  Voice  of  Coming  Doom 72 

XI.  Little  Erminie 80 

XII.  Woman's  Hate 91 

XIII.  Retribution 98 

XIV.  The  New  Home 105 

XV.  "After  Many  Days." 121 

XVI.  Master  Ranty 132 

XVII.  Our  Erminie 141 

XVIII.  Pet's  Peril 150 

XIX.  Playing  with  Edged  Tools 161 

XX.  Firefly  Goes  to  School ';?6 

XXI.  Pet  Begins  her  Education i,,7 

XXII.  Pet  Finishes  her  Education 206 

XXin.  The  Adopted  Daughter 215 

s 


^tkikti^      ^ 


^    Ail   bA.1. 


:3iva 


1 

i 


OHAVTBR 

XXIV. 
XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV, 

XXXVI 

XXXVII 

XXXVIII, 

XXXIX. 

XL. 


CONTENTS. 

PAoa 

Pet  Gives  her  Tutor  a  Lesson 224 

Mr.  Toosypegs  in  Distress 238 

Pet  "  Respectfully  Declines." 244 

Greek  meets  Greek 'S' 

An  Unlooked-for  Lover 27O 

Mr.  Toosypegs  in  Distress  Again 280 

Miss  Lawless  in  Difficulties ^°" 

The  Outlaw's  Wife =9^ 

The  Outlaw 3°? 

Home  from  Sea 3'9 

Face  to  Face 33^ 

Father  and  Son 34^ 

The  Outlaw's  Story 35° 

The  Attack 3^1 

Lady  Maud 373 

The  Dawn  of  a  Brighter  Day 3^4 

Chiefly  Matrimonial 39* 


tWwiwwWiBife 


PAoa 

.  224 

.  238 

■  244 

■  251 

.  270 
.  280 
.  286 
.  296 

.  307 

•  319 

•  332 
.  34» 

•  350 
.  361 

•  373 
.  384 

•  39« 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


CHAPTER  I. 


NIGHT    AND   STORM. 


*•  The  night  grows  wondrous  dark  ;  deep-swelling  gusts 
And  sultry  stillness  take  the  rule  by  turn, 
While  o'er  our  heads  the  black  and  heavy  clouds 
Roll  slowly  on.     This  surely  bodes  a  storm." 

— Baillie. 

Overhead,  the  storm-clouds  were  scudding  wildly  across 
the  sky,  until  all  above  was  one  dense  pall  of  impenetrable 
gloom.  A  chill,  penetrating  rain  was  falling,  and  the  wind 
came  sweeping  in  long,  fitful  gusts — piercingly  cold ;  for  it 
was  a  night  in  March. 

It  was  the  north  road  to  London.  A  thick,  yellow  fog, 
that  had  been  rising  all  day  from  the  bosom  of  the  Thames, 
wrapped  the  great  city  in  a  blackness  that  might  almost  be 
felt ;  and  its  innumerable  lights  were  shrouded  in  the  deep 
gloom.  Yet  the  solitary  figure,  flitting  through  the  pelting 
rain  and  bleak  wind,  strained  her  eyes  as  she  fled  along,  as 
though,  despite  the  more  than  Egyptian  darkness,  she  would 
force,  by  her  fierce,  steady  glare,  the  obscure  lights  of  the 
city  to  show  themselves. 

The  night  lingered  and  lingered,  the  gloom  deepened  and 
deepened,  the  rain  plash.  .  dismally  ;  the  wind  blew  in 
moaning,  lamentable  gusts,  penetrating  through  the  thick 
mantle  she  held  closely  around  her.     And   still   the  woman 


tm^^K^^^^^flniy^'-^'f:-'  '• 


•aiva    l! 


6  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

fled  on,  stopping  neither  for  wind,  nor  rain,  nor  storm— 
unheeilmg.  unfeeling  them  all— keeping  her  fierce,  de- 
vouring gaze  fixed,  with  a  look  that  might  have  pierced 
the  very  heavens,  on  the  still  far-distant  city. 

There  was  no  one  on  the  road  but  herself.  The  lateness 
of  the  hour— for  it  was  almost  midnight— and  the  increasing 
storm,  kept  pedestrians  within  doors  that  cheerless  March 
night.  Now  and  then  she  would  pass  cottages  in  which 
lights  were  still  glaring,  but  most  of  the  houses  were  wrapped 
in  silence  and  darkness. 

And  still  on,  through  night,  and  storm,  and  gloom,  fled 
the  w.inderer.  with  the  pitiless  rain  beating  in  her  face~ 
the  chill  blasts  fluttering  her  thin-worn  garments  and  long, 
wild,  black  hair.  Still  on,  pausing  not,  resting  not,  never 
removing  her  steadfast  gaze  from  the  distant  city— like  a 
lost  soul  hurrying  to  its  doom. 

Suddenly,  above  the  \/ailing  of  the  wind  and  plashing  of 
the  rain,  arose  the  thunder  of  horses'  hoofs  and  the  crash  of 
approaching  carriage  wheels.  Rapidly  they  came  on,  and 
the  woman  paused  for  a  moment  and  leaned  again  a  cottage 
porch,  as  if  waiting  until  it  should  pass. 

A  bright  light  was  still  burning  in  the  window,  and  it  fell 
on   the  lonely  wayfarer  as  she  stood,  breathing  hard  and 
waitmg,  with  burning,  feverish   impatience,  for  the  carriage 
to  pass.     It  displayed  the  form  of   a   woman  of  forty,  or 
thereabouts,  with  a  tall,  towering,  commanding  figure,  gaunt 
and  bony.     Her  complexion  was  dark  ;  its  naturally  swarthy 
hue  having  been  tanned  by  sun    and  wind  to  a  dark-brown. 
The  features    were   strong,  stern,  and  prominent,  yet  you 
could  see   at  a  glance  that  the  face   had  once  been  a  hand- 
some one.     Now,    however— thin,    haggard,  and   fleshless, 
with  the  high,   prominent   cheek-bones  ;  the  gloomy,  over- 
hanging brows  ;  the  stern,  set,  unyielding  mouth  ;  the  rigid, 
corrugated  brow  ;  the  fierce,  devouring,  maniac,  black  eyes 
—it  looked  positively  hideous.     Such  eyes!— such  burning, 
blazing  orbs  of  fire,  never  was  seen  in  human  head  before  i 
They  glowed  like  two  live  coals  in  a  bleached  skull.     There 
was  utter  misery,  there  was   despair    unspeakable,  mingled 
with  fierce  determination,  in  those  lurid,  flaming  eyes.     And 
that  dark,  stern,  terrific  face  was  stamped   with  the  unmis- 
takable impress  of  a  despised,  degraded  race.     The  woman 


■^mt*m«f!ii'-Lh 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS.  ^ 

was  a  gipsy.  It  needed  not  her  peculiar  dress,  the  costume 
of  her  tribe,  to  tell  this,  though  that  was  significant  enough 
Her  thick,  coarse,  jet-black  hair,  streaked  with  threads  of 
gray,  was  pusl.ed  impatiently  off  her  face;  and  her  only 
head-covering  was  a  handkerchief  of  crimson  and  black  silk 
knotted  under  her  chin.  A  cloak,  of  coarse,  red  woolen 
stuff,  covered  her  shoulders,  and  a  dress  of  the  same  ma- 
terial, but  in  color  blue,  reached  hardly  to  her  ankles.  The 
brilliant  head-dress,  and  unique,  fiery  costume,  suited  well 
the  dark,  fierce,  passionate  face  of  the  wearer. 

For  an  instant  she  paused,  as  if  to  let  the  carriage  pass : 
then,  as  if  even  the  delay  of  an  instant  was  maddening,  she 
started  wildly  up,  and  keeping  her  hungry,  devouring  gize 
fixed  on  the  vision  of  the  still  unseen  city,  she  sped  on  more 
rapidly  than  before. 


CHAPTER  II. 


MR.    TOOSYPEGS. 

"  J^e  bears  him  like  a  portly  gentleman  ; 
And,  to  say  truth,  Vernon  brags  of  him 
To  be  a  virtuous  and  well-governed  youth." 

— Shak  speare. 

The  vehicle  that  the  gipsy  had  heard  approaching  was  a 
light  wagon  drawn  by  two  swift  horses.  It  had  two  seats 
capable  of  holding  four  persons,  though  the  front  seat  alone 
was  now  occupied. 

The  first  of  these  (for  his  age  claims  the  precedence)  was 
a  short,  stout,  burly,  thickset,  little  man,  buttoned  up  in  a 
huge  great-coat,  suffering  under  a  severe  eruption  of  capes 
and  pockets  An  immense  fur  cap,  that,  by  its  antediluvian 
looks,  might  have  been  worn  by  Noah's  grandfather,  adorned 
his  head,  and  was  pulled  so  far  down  on  his  face  that  noth- 
ing was  visible  but  a  round,  respectable- looking  bottle-nose 
and  a  pair  of  small,  twinkling  gray  eyes.  This  individual,  who 
^salso  the  driver,  rejoiced  in  the  cognomen  of  Mr.  Bill 
Harkins,  and  made  it  his  business  to  takp  b^la^pH  iva,.foro,c.  *^ 
London  (either  by  land  or  water),  when  arriving  tooFai^elfor 


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THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


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the  regular  conveyances.  On  the  present  occasion  his  sole 
freight  consisted  of  a  young  gentleman  with  a  brilliant-hued 
carpet-bag,  glowing  with  straw-colored  roses  and  dark-blue 
lilies,  rising  from  a  background  resembling  London  smoke. 
The  young  gentleman  was  a  very  remarkable  young  gentle- 
man indeed.  He  was  exceedingly  tall  and  thin,  with  legs 
like  a  couple  of  pipe-stems,  and  a  neck  so  long  and  slender 
that  it  reminded  you  of  a  gander's,  and  made  you  tremble  for 
the  safety  of  the  head  balanced  on  such  a  frail  support.  His 
hair  and  complexion  were  both  of  that  indefinite  color 
known  to  the  initiated  as  "  whity  brown  " — the  latter  being 
profusely  sprinkled  with  large  yellow  freckles,  and  the 
former  as  straight  and  sleek  as  bear's  grease  could  make  it. 
For  the  rest,  he  was  characterized  by  nothing  in  particular, 
but  for  being  the  possessor  of  a  pair  of  large,  pale-blue  eyes, 
not  remarkable  for  either  brilliancy  or  expression,  and  for 
wearing  the  meekest  possible  expression,  of  countenance. 
He  might  have  been  eighteen  years  old,  as  far  as  years 
went ;  but  his  worldly  wisdom  was  by  no  means  equal  to 
his  years. 

'*  By  jingo  1  that  'ere  was  a  blast !  "  said  Mr.  Harkins, 
bending  his  head  as  a  gale  swept  shrieking  by. 

"Yes,  it  (/oes  blow,  but  /  don't  mind  it — I'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you,"  said  the  pale  young  man,  with  the  white 
hair  and  freckles,  holding  his  carpet-bag  in  his  arms,  as  if  it 
were  a  baby. 

"  Who  said  you  did  ?  "  growled  Bill  Harkins.  "  You'll  be 
safe  in  Lunnon  in  half  an  'our,  while  I'll  be  a-drivin'  back 
through  this  'ere  win'  and  rain,  getting  wetted  right  through. 
If  you  don't  mind  it,  /does,  Mr.  Toosypegs." 

"  Mr.  Harkins,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  humbly,  "  I'm  very 
sorry  to  put  you  to  so  much  trouble,  I'm  sure,  but  if  two 
extra  crowns — " 

"  Mr.  Toosypegs,"  interrupted  Mr.  Harkins,  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  feeling,  "  give  us  yer  hand ;  yer  a  trump.  It's  easy 
to  be  perceived,  them  as  is  gentlemen  from  them  as  isn't. 
You're  one  o'  the  right  sort ;  oughter  to  be  a  lord,  by  jingo  ! 
Get  up,  hold  lazybones,"  said  Mr.  Harkins/  touching  the 
near-wheeler  daintily  with  his  whip. 

"Mr.  Harkins,  it's  very  good  of  you  to  say  so,  and  I'm 
very  much  obliged  to  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 


Mmmtmrni; 


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1  his  sole 
iant-hued 
dark-blue 
n  smoke. 
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and  the 
I  make  it. 
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blue  eyes, 
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Harkins, 

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the  white 
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You'll  be 
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■  I'm  very 
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a  sudden 
It's  easy 
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by  jingo  ! 
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,  and  I'm 
oosypegs, 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS.  g 

gratefully ;  "  but,  at  the  same  time,  if  you'll  please  to  recollect 
1  m  an  American,  and  consequently  couldn't  be  a  lord' 
There  aren't  any  lords  over  in  America,  Mr.  Harkins* 
though  if  there  was,  I  dare  say  I  would  be  one.  It's  real 
kind  of  you  to  wish  it,  though,  and  I'm  much  obliged  to 
you,    added  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  emotion. 

"  Hamerica  must  be  a  hodd  sorter  place,"  said  Mr.  Har- 
kins,  reflectively.     "  I've  heern  tell  that  your  king—" 

"He  isn't  a  king,  Mr.  Harkins;  he's  only  the  President," 
broke  in  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  energy. 

''  Well,  President,  then,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  adopting  the 
amendment  with  a  look  of  disgust.  "  I've  heern  they  call 
him  '  mister,'  jest  like  hany  bother  man." 

-So  they  do;  and  he  glories  in  the  triumphant  title— a 
title  which,  as  an  American  citizen's,  is  a  prouder  one  than 
tha  of  king  or  kaiser  I  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  enthusiastically, 
while  he  repeated  the  sentence  he  had  read  out  of  a  late 
novel :  '  It  is  a  title  for  which  emperors  might  lay  down 
their  scepters— for  which  potentates  might  doff  the  royal 
purple— for  which  the  great  ones  of  the  earth  might— a— 
might  -Mr  Toosypegs  paused  -nd  knit  his  brows,  having 
evidently  lost  his  cue.  '  ^ 

"  Kick  the  bucket  I  " 
his  aid. 

"Mr.  Harkins,  I'm  very  much  oblig,._  to  you:  but  that 
wasn't   exactly  the   word,"    said   Mr.   l^oosyp^s    politely 
-Might '-oh,  yes!-' might  resign  name  and^  fame,  and 
dwell  under  the  shadow  of  the  American  eagle,  whose  glori 
ous  wings  extend  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth,  and  before 

forevermot'r  "  "^  "^"  '''  "''^°"'  "^  ^'^  "°^^^  '""^^  ^^"^h 

And  Mr.  Toosypegs,  carried  away  by  national  enthusiasm 

hlZ  nJ  M™«"1^- "  ^"""^^  '^''  '^' ^"^^  i"  ^«"tact  with  ^e 
head  of  Mr  Harkins,  and  set  more  stars  dancing  before  his 
eyes  than  there  would  have  been  had  the  night  been  ever  so 

colfaredTr'^Ton^'-  ^^'^'u'  ^"^'^"^""y  ^P^»"g  round,  and 
whhv  brown  ,^°^'>'P^g^J'^««e  complexion  had  turned  from 
whity-brown  to  gray,  with  terror,  and  whose  teeth  rh^tt.r.^ 
wirn  mingied  shame  and  fear. 
"You  himpertanent  wagabond!"  shouted  Mr.  Karkius, 


suggested  Mr.  Harkins,  coming  to 


I 


\,'*smmmm^-:~.i 


.^Oi& 


•aiva 


lO 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


S-3 


ll 


'  to  go  for  to  strike  a  hunnofifending  man  like  that !     Blessed ! 
if  I   hain't  a  good  mind  to  chuck  yer  'ead  fust  hout  the 

waggin." 

"  Mr.  Har — Har — Harkins,"  stammered  the  half-strangled 
advocate  of  the  American  eagle,  "  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it, 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you !  I  do  assure  you,  Mr.  Har- 
kins,   I    hadn't    the    faintest    idea    of    hitting   you;  and    if 

money — " 

"  How  much  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Harkins,  fiercely,  looking 
bayonets  at  his  trembling  victim. 

"  Mr.  Harkins,  if  five  or  even  ten  dollars — " 

"  Which  is  how  many  pounds  ?  "  demanded  the  somewhat 
mollified  Mr.  Harkins. 

"  Two  pounds  sterling,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  trem- 
bling  falsetto ;  "  and  I  do  assure  you,  Hr.  Harkins,  I  hadn't 
the  faintest  idea  of  hitting  you  that  time.     If  two  pound — " 

"  Done  !  "  cried  Mr.  Harkins.  "  Never  say  it  ag'in.  ^  I 
ain't  a  man  to  bear  spite  at  no  one — which  is  a  Christian 
maxim,  Mr.  Toosypegs.  A  clip  side  the  head's  neither  here 
nor  there.  Same  time,  I'll  take  them  two-pound  flimsies 
now,  if's  all  the  same  to  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly— certainly,  Mr.  Harkins,"'  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
drawing  out  a  purse  well  filled  with  gold,  and  opening  it 
nervously.  "  Three — five — ten  dollars,  and  two  for  the 
drive's  twelve ;  and  one  to  buy  sugar-plums  for  your  infant 
family — if  you've  got  such  a  thing  about  you — is  thirteen. 
Here's  thirteen  dollars,  Mr.  Harkins.  I'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"  Same  to  you,  Mr.  Toosypegs,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  pocket- 
ing the  money,  with  a  broad  grin.  "  '  May  you  ne'er  want 
a  frien,'  nor  a  bottle  to  give  him,'  as  the  poic  says." 

"  Mr.  Harkins,  I'm  obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
grasping  his  hand,  which  Mr.  Harkins  resigned  with  a  grunt. 
"You  have  a  soul,  Mr.  Harkins.  I  know  it — I  feel  it. 
Everybody  mightn't  find  it  out ;  but  I  can — I  perceived  it 
from  the  first." 

Mr.  Harkins  heard  this  startling  fact  with  the  greatest  in- 
difference, merely  saying,  "  Humph  I  " 

"  And  now,  how  far  do  you  suppose  we  are  from  the  city, 
Mr.  Harkins  1  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  his  most  insinuating 
tone. 


/a 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS. 


II 


Blessed ! 
hout  the 

f-strangled 

to  do  itj 

,  Mr.  Har- 

u ;  and    if 

ly,  looking 


somewhat 

in  a  trem- 
s,  I  hadn't 
pound — " 
:  ag'in.  I 
I  Christian 
either  here 
id  flimsies 

roosypegs, 
opening  it 
ro  for  the 
^our  infant 
is  thirteen, 
/ery  much 

ins,  pocket- 
ne'er  want 
s." 

roosypegs, 
ith  a  grunt. 
-I  feel  it. 
lerceived  it 

greatest  in- 

)m  the  city, 
insinuating 


"  'Bout  a  mile  or  so." 

"  Could  ycu  recommend  any  hotel  to  me,  Mr.  Harkins. 
I'm  a  stranger  in  thf  -ity,  you  know,  and  should  feel  grate- 
ful if  you  would,"   :  r.  t  Mr.  Toosypegs,  humbly. 

"Why,  yes,  I  csr,.  said  Mr.  Harkins,  brightening  sud- 
denly  up.  "  There's  the  '  Blue  Pig,'  one  of  the  finest  'otels 
m  Lunnon,  with  the  best  o'  'commodations  for  man  and 
laeast.  You've  heern  o'  the  '  Blue  Pig  '  over  there  in  Hamer- 
ica,  hain't  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Toosypegs  wasn't  sure.  It  was  very  likely  he  had ; 
but,  owing  to  his  bad  memory,  he  had  forgotten. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  you  won't  find  many  'otels  to  beat  that 
'ere.     Best  o'  'commodation — but  I  told  you  that  hafore." 

"  Where  is  it  located  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Toosypegs. 

"  St.  Giles.  You  know  where  that  is,  in  course — hevery- 
body  does.  The  nicest  'otel  in  Lunnon— best  o'  'commoda- 
tions. But  I  told  you  that  hafore.  My  hold  frien'  Bruisin' 
Bob  keeps  it.     You'll  like  it,  I  know." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Harkins,  I  dare  say  I  will.  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  somewhat  dubious 
tone. 

"  That  'ere  man's  the  greatest  cove  a-goin',"  said  Mr. 
Harkms,  getting  enthusiastic.  "  Been  married  ten  times  if 
he's  been  married  once.  One  wife  died  ;  one  left  his  bread- 
board, and  run  hoff  with  a  hofficer  dragoon  ;  one  was  lagged 
for  stealin'  wipes,  and  he's  got  three  livin'  at  this  present 
wntin'.     Great  fellar  is  Bob." 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt  of  it,  Mr.  Harkins,"  said 
the  proprietor  of  the  freckles,  politely  ;  "  and  I  anticipate  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure  in  making  the  acquaintance  of  your 
friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs  Bob.  But.  good  gracious!  Mr. 
Harkins,  just  look  there— if  that  ain't  a  woman  hurrying  on 
there  after,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  pointing,  in  intense  sur- 
prise, to  the  form  of  the  gipsy,  as  she  darted  swiftly  away 
from  the  cottage.  ^ 

"Well,  what  o'  that  ?  Some  tramper  a-goin'  to  Lunnon." 
said  Mr.  Harkins,  gruffly. 

"  But,  Mr.  Harkins,  a  woman  out  in  such  a  storm  at  this 
hour  of  the  night !  Why,  it  ain't  right,"  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs. getting  excited. 

Mr.  Harkins  picked  up  his  hat,  turned  down  the  collar  of 


oiiailiTiiL 


:31Va    L 


'}^«f's  «mmmiLLi.mm.mfm 


xa 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


his  coat,  faced  abruptly  round,  and  looked  Mr.  Toosypegs 
straight  in  the  eyes. 

«'  i-o  call  to  her  to  get  in,  Mr.  Harkins.  There's  plenty 
of  room  for  her  on  the  back  seat,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  un- 
heeding  Mr.  Harkins'  astounded  look  at  his  philanthropy. 
"A  woman  traveling  on  foot  in  such  a  storm  1  Why,  it  ain't 
right !  "  repeated  Mr,  Toosypegs,  getting  still  more  excited. 

"  Mr.  Toosypegs,  Hamericans  don't  never  be  a  little  hout 
their  mind,  do  they  ? "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  blandly. 

<'  Not  often,  Mr.  Harkins,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you," 
said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  his  customary  politeness. 

"  Because  if  they  did,  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  in 
the  same  bland  tone,  "  I  should  say  you  wasn't  quite  right 
yourself,  you  know  !  " 

"  Good  gracious  1  Mr,  Harkins,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  tone  of  mild  remonstrance. 
"  You  don't  think  I'm  crazy,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Toosypegs,  I  don't  like  to  be  personal ;  so  I'll  only 
say  it's  my  private  opinion  you're  a  brick !  "  said  Mr. 
Harkins,  mildly.  "  Perhaps,  though,  its  the  hair  of  Hingland 
wot  doesn't  agree  with  you.  I  thought  you  was  wery  sen- 
sible a  little  w'ile  ago,  when  you  gin  me  them  two  poun'." 

<'  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  good  opinion, 
Mr.  Harkins,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  blushing.  "And  if 
you'll  only  call  to  that  woman  to  get  into  the  wagon,  I'll  be 

still  more  so." 

"  And  have  your  pockets  picked  ?  "  said  Mr.  Harkms, 
sharply.     "  I  shan't  do  no  sich  thing." 

«  Mr.  Harkins  !  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  warmly,  "  she's  a 
woman — ain't  she  ?  " 

"  Well,  wot  if  she  be  ?  "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  sullenly. 

"  Why,  that  no  woman  should  be  walking  at  this  hour 
when  men  are  riding;  more  p-rticularly  when  there  is  a 
back  seat  with  nobody  in  it.  Why,  it  ain't  right  1  "  said  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  who  seemed  unable  to  get  beyond  this  point. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  !  "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  snappishly.  "Do 
you  s'pose,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  buy_ 
waggins  to  kerry  sich  lumber  as  that  'ere  ?  I  won't  do  it 
for  no  one.  I.ikelv  as  not  she's  nothin'  but  a  gipsy,  or  some- 
thing as  bad.  This  'ere  waggin  ain't  goin'  to  be  perluted 
with  no  sich  trash." 


a   L 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS. 


13 


josypegs 

:'s  plenty 
pegs,  un- 
inthropy. 
y,  it  ain't 
:  excited, 
ittle  hout 

to  you," 

irkins,  in 
uite  right 

an  ? "  ex- 
nstrance. 

.  I'll  only 
said  Mr. 
Hingland 
very  sen- 
poun'." 
opinion, 
"And  if 
.n,  I'll  be 

Harkins, 

»  she's  a 

ily. 

this  hour 
bere  is  a 
'  said  Mr. 
s  point. 
hly-  "Do 
J  but  buy 
'on't  do  it 
T,  or  some- 
s  perluted 


"  Mr.  Harkins,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  briskly,  thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  pocket,  "  what  will  you  take  and  bring  her  to 
London  ?  " 

"  Hey  ?  '  A  fool  and  his  money  '—hum  !  What'll  you 
give .''  " 

"  There  s  a  crown." 

"  Done  1  "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  closing  his  digits  on  the 
coin,  while  his  little  eyes  snapped.  "  Hullo  1  you,  woman  1 " 
he  shouted,  rising  his  voice. 

The  gipsy— who,  though  but  a  yard  or  so  ahead,  was  in- 
distinguishable in  the  darkness — sped  on  without  paying  the 
slightest  attention  to  his  call. 

"  Hallo,  there  !  Hallo  1  "  again  called  Mr.  Harkins,  while 
Mr.  Toosypegs  followed  him  : 

"  Stop  a  moment,  if  you  please,  madam." 

But  neither  for  the  sharp,  surly  order  of  the  driver,  nor 
the  bland,  courteous  request  of  Mr.  Toosypegs,  did  the  woman 
stop.  Casting  a  brief,  fleeting  glance  over  her  shoulder,  she 
again  flitted  on. 

"  You  confounded  old  witch  I  Stop  and  take  a  ride  to 
town— will  you?"  yelled  the  polite  and  agreeable  Mr. 
Harkins,  holding  up  a  dark  lantern  and  reining  in  his  horse 
by  the  woman's  side. 

The  dark,  stern  face,  with  its  fierce,  black  eyes  and  wildly- 
streaming  hair,  was  turned,  and  a  hard,  deep  voice  asked 
what  he  wanted. 

"  A  gipsy  1  I  knew  it !  "  muttered  Mr.  Harkins,  shrink- 
ing involuntarily  from  her  lurid  glances.  "  Ugh  1  What  a 
face  !  Looks  like  the  witch  in  the  play  ? "  Then  aloud : 
"  Get  in,  ma'am,  and  I'll  take  ye  to  town." 

"  Go  play  your  jokes  on  some  one  else,"  said  the  woman, 
curtly,  turning  away. 

"I  ain't  a-jokin'.  Nice  time  o'  night  this  to  stop  and 
play  jokes — ain't  it?  "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  in  a  tone  of  intense 
irony.  "This  'ere  young  man,  which  is  a  Hamerican  from 
the  New  Knighted  States,  has  paid  yer  fare  to  Lunnon  outer 
his  hown  blessed  pocket.  So  jump  in,  and  don't  keep  me 
waitin'  here  in  the  wet." 

"  Is  what  he  says  true  ?  "  said  the  dark  woman,  turning 
the  sharp  light  of  her  stiletto-like  eyes  on  the  freckles  and 
pale-blue  eyes  of  good  natured  Mr.  Toosypegs. 


^TLlniitik     i  J^   ^ 


:31Va    i 


14 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"Yes,  ma'am.  I'm  happy  to  say  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Toosy* 
pegs.     "  Allow  me  to  hand  you  in." 

And  Mr.  Toosypegs  got  up  to  fulfill  his  offer ;  but  Dobbin 
at  that  moment  gave  the  wagon  a  malicious  jerk,  and  dumped 
f.ur  patriotic  American  back  in  his  seat.  Before  he  could 
recover  his  breath,  the  gipsy  had  declined  his  assistance, 
with  a  wave  of  her  hand,  and  had  entered  the  wagon  un- 
assisted, and  taken  her  seat. 

"  I  know  that  tramper,"  said  Mr.  Harkins  in  a  nervous 
whisper  to  Mr.  Toosypegs.  "It's  the  gipsy  queen,  Ketura, 
from  Yetholin  ;  most  wonderful  woman  that  ever  was,  'cept 
Deborah,  the  woman  the  Bible  tells  about,  you  know,  wot 
druv  the  nail  through  the  fellar's  head  when  she  found  him 
takin'  a  snooze.  Heard  a  minister  take  her  for  his  tex' 
once,  and  preach  all  about  it.  Our  cow's  name's  Deborah, 
too,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  absently. 

"  And  she's  a  gipsy  queen  ?  Lord  bless  us  1  "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  turning  round  and  looking  in  some  alarm  at 
the  fixed,  stern,  dark  face  before  him — like  the  face  of  a 
statue  in  bronze.     "  Does  she  tell  fortunes  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  you'd  better  not  hask  her  to-night,"  said  Mr. 
Harkins,  in  the  same  cautious  whisper.  "  Her  son's  in 
prison,  and  sentenced  to  transportation  for  life  for  robbin* 
the  plate  of  the  Hearl  De  Courcy.  He's  goin'  off  with  a 
lot  of  bothers  airly  to-morrow  mornin'.  Now,  don't  go  ex- 
claiming that  way,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  in  a  tone  expressive 
of  disgust,  as  he  gave  his  companion  a  dig  in  the  side. 

"  Poor  thing  1  poor  thing  I  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  tone 
of  sympathy.     "  Why,  it's  too  bad ;  it  really  is,  Mr.  Harkins." 

"  Sarved  him  right,  it's  my  opinion,"  said  Mr.  Harkins, 
sententiously.  "  Wot  business  had  he  for  to  go  for  to  rob 
Hearl  de  Courcy,  I  want  ter  know  ?  His  mother,  the  hold 
lady  ahind  here,  went  and  sot  him  up  for  a  gentleman,  and 
see  wot's  come  hof  hit.  She,  a  hold  gipsy  queen,  goin'  and 
sendin'  her  son  to  Heton  with  hall  the  young  lordses,  and 
baronetses,  and  dukeses,  and  makin'  believe  he  was  some- 
thin'  above  the  common.  And  now  see  what  her  fine  gentle- 
man's gone  and  done  and  come  to.  Wonder  wot  she'll  think 
of  herself,  when  she  sees  him  takin'  a  sea  voyage  for  the 
good  of  his  'ealth  at  the  'spense  of  the  government,  to- 
morrow ? " 


flW5**t*!*«»M*=- 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS. 


»5 


"Poor  thing  I  poor  thing  I  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  looking 
deeply  sorry. 

"  Poor  hold  thing  hindeed  1 "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  turning 
up  his  nose  contemptuously.  "  Sarved  'im  right,  I  say  ag'in. 
That  'ere  son  o'  hern  was  the  most  stuck-hup  chap  I  ever 
clapped  my  two  blessed  heyes  on.  Hafter  he  left  Heton,  I 
see'd  'im,  one  day,  in  the  streets,  hand  guess  who  with  ? 
W'y,  with  nobody  less  than  young  Lord  Williers,  honly 
son  o'  the  Hearl  De  Courcy,  as  he  has  gone  and  robbed. 
There's  hmgratitude  for  you!  I  didn't  know  'im  then; 
but  I  'cognized  him  hafterward  in  the  court-room  hat  'is 
trial." 

"  How  could  he  afford  to  go  to  Eton— he,  a  gipsy  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  surprise. 

"  Dunno  1  Hold  woman  sent  'im,  I  s'pose — 'owever  she 
got  the  money.  He  was  a  fine-looking  'fellow,  too,  I  must 
say,  though  raythcr  tawny,  but  'andsome  as  Lord  Williers 
hmiself.  Hold  Ketura  was  'andsome  once,  too ;  see'd  'er 
w'en  she  was  a  reg'lar  hout-and-hout  beauty;  though  you 
mightn't  think  it  now.  Times  changes  folks,  yer  know," 
said  Mr.  Harkins,  in  a  moralizing  tone. 

"  What  made  him  steal,  if  his  mother  was  so  rich  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Toosypegs. 

"  His  mother  wasn't  rich  no  more'n  I  be.  S'pose  she  made 
enough  tellin'  fortunes,  poachin',  and  stealin'  to  pay  fur  'im 
at  school ;  hand  then  when  he  growed  hup,  and  his  cash 
gave  out,  he  took  hand  stole  the  head's  plate.  He  denied 
It  hall  hat  'is  tria^ ;  but  then  they  hall  do  that.  By  jingo  I 
he  looked  fierce  enough  to  knock  the  judge  and  jury,  and 
all  the  rest  on  'em,  hinto  the  middle  hof  next  week,  hif  noc 
further,  that  day.  'Twas  no  go,  though;  hand  hover  the 
water  he  goes  to-morrow." 

"Poor  fellow  I  Mr.  Harkins,  I'm  sorry  for  him— I  really 
am,'  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  tone  of  real  sincerity, 

Mr.  Harkins  burst  into  a  gruff  laugh. 
^    "  Well,  hif  this  ain't  good  I     Wot  fools  folks  is  !     Sorry 
lor  a  cove  yer  never  saw  1     Wonder  hif  hall  Hamericans  is 
as  green  as  you  be  ?  " 

i^t^*^^•Ju^^^^"^^"^^' ^^^^^  came  out  in  a  series  of  little 
jer.-s,  vr'ith  strong  notes  of  admiration  appended  to  each,  Mr. 
Harkms  relapsed  into  silence  and  the  collar  of  his  greatcoat, 


T«afl«Rra*i*«i»-. 


ill' J 


HT 


•aiva   L 


i6 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


It;  ' 


and  began  whistling  '*  The  Devil  Among  the  Tailors,"  in  a 
voice  like  a  frog  with  the  influenza. 

They  were  now  rapidly  approaching  the  city — the  loud 
crash  and  din  of  which  had  somewhat  subsided,  owing  to 
the  inclemency  of  the  weather  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 
The  gipsy,  who  had  not  heard  a  word  of  the  foregoing  con- 
versation—it having  been  carried  on  in  a  prudently-subdued 
tone — had  wrapped  her  coarse  cloak  closer  around  her, 
while  the  gaze  of  her  devouring  eyes  grew  more  intense,  as 
the  lights  of  the  city  began  to  appear.  One  by  one,  they 
came  gleaming  out  through  the  dense  fog  with  bug-like  stars 
here  and  there  ;  and  in  every  direction. 

The  city  was  gained ;  and  they  were  soon  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  great,  throbbing  heart  of  mighty  London. 

The  wagon  stopped,  and  Mr.  Toosypegs  sprung  out  to 
assist  the  woman  to  alight. 

But  waving  him  away  with  an  impatient  motion,  she  sprung 
out  unassisted,  and  without  one  word  or  look  of  thanks, 
turned  and  flitted  away  in  the  chill  night  wind. 

"  There  1  I  knowedthat  would  be  all  the  thanks  ye'd  get," 
said  Mr.  Harkins,  with  a  hoarse  chuckle.  "  Hoff  she  goes, 
and  j'ou'U  never  see  her  again." 

"Well,  that  do.'t  matter  any.  I  didn't  want  thanks,  I'm 
sure,"  said  the  kind-hearted  Mr.  Toosypegs.  "Good-by, 
Mr.  Harkins.     Give  my  respects  to  Mrs.  Harkins." 

"  Good-night,  hold  fellar,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  giving  Mr. 
Toosypegs'  hand  a  cordial  shake.  "  You're  a  brick !  How 
I'd  like  to  come  hacr«%s  one  like  you  hev'ry  night !  Go 
right  to  Bob's,  sign  o'  the  *  Blue  Pig,'  St.  Giles,  best  o'  'com- 
modation  for  man  and  beast ;  but  I  told  you  that  before. 
Tell  Bob  I  sent  you,  and  I'll  call  and  see  you  in  a  few 
days." 

"  You're  very  good,  Mr.  Harkins.  I'll  certainly  tell  Mr. 
Bob  so  when  I  see  him !  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  a  severe 
twinge  of  conscience  at  the  deception  he  felt  himself  to  be 
using;  "and  I'll  be  very  glad  to  see  you  whenever  you 
call     I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you." 


I 


THE  LOVERS. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE   LOVERS. 


«  Oh,  thou  shalt  be  all  else  to  me, 

That  heart  can  feel,  or  tongue  can  feign; 
I'll  praise,  admire,  and  worship  thee, 
But  must  not,  dare  not,  love  again." 

—Moore. 

While  the  solitary  wagon  was  driving,  through  wind  and 
rain,  along  the  lonely  north  road,  bearing  its  three  strangely- 
contrasted  inmates — the  gruff,  avaricious  driver,  the  simple, 
kind-hearted  youth,  and  the  dark,  fierce,  stern  woman — a  far 
different  scene  was  passing  in  another  quarter  of  the  city. 
At  that  same  hour  the  town  mansion  of  Hugh  Seyton — Earl 
De  Courcy — was  all  ablaze  with  lights,  music  and  mirth. 
Gorgeous  drawing-rooms,  fretted  with  gold  and  carving, 
dazzling  with  numberless  jets  of  light  from  the  pendant 
chandeliers,  odorous  with  the  heavy  perfume  of  costly  exotics, 
the  very  air  quivering  with  softest  music,  were  thrown  open, 
and  were  filled  with  the  proud,  the  high-born,  the  beautiful, 
cf  London.  Peers  and  peeresses,  gallant  nobles  and  ladies 
bright,  moved  through  the  glittering  rooms,  and  with  singing, 
talking,  flirting,  dancing,  the  night  was  waning  apace. 

Two  young  men  stood  together  within  the  deep  shadow  of 
a  bay-window,  in  the  music-room,  watching  a  group  assembled 
round  a  young  lady  at  the  piano,  and  conversing  in  low 
tones. 

One  of  these  was  decidedly  the  handsomest  man  present 
that  night.  In  stature  he  was  tall,  somewhat  above  the 
common  height,  and  faultless  in  form  and  figure,  with  a  cer- 
tain air  of  distingue  about  him  that  stamped  him  as  one  of 
noble  birth.  His  clear,  fair  complexion,  his  curling  chestnut 
hair,  and  large  blue  eyes,  betrayed  his  Saxon  blood.  His 
face  mifht  have  seemed  slisrhtlv  effeminate  :  but  no  one.  in 
looking  at  the   high,  kingly  brow,  the  dark,  flashing  eyes, 


jik  j%L    ^ 


•■3iva    i 


i8 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


and  firm-set  mouth,  would  have  thought  that  long.  A  dark 
mustache  shaded  his  upper  lip,  and  a  strange,  nameless 
Ixauty  lit  up  and  softened  his  handsome  face  whenever  he 
smiled.  Adored  by  the  ladies,  envied  by  the  men,  Lord 
Ernest  Villiers,  only  son  of  Earl  De  Courcy,  seemed  to  have 
nothing  on  earth  left  to  wish  for. 

And  yet,  at  times,  over  that  white,  intellectual  brow  a 
dark  shadow  would  flit ;  from  the  depths  of  those  dark,  hand- 
some eyes  the  bright  light  of  a  happy  heart  would  pass;  the 
mouth  would  grow  stern,  and  a  look  of  troubled  care  would 
darken  his  young  face. 

His  compan-on,  a  good-looking  young  man,  with  a  certain 
air  about  him  as  if  he  were  somebody  and  knew  it,  with  a 
listless  look,  and  most  desirable  curling  whiskers,  leaned 
against  a  marble  Hebe,  and  listened  languidly  to  the  singing. 
He  wore  the  undress  uniform  of  an  officer,  and  being  inter- 
preted, was  no  other  than  Captain  George  Jernyngham,  of 
the  Guards. 

"What  a   wonderful   afifair   this    is   of   Germaine's eh, 

Villiers  ?  "  said  Captain  Jernyngham,  carressing  his  mustache! 
"  Just  like  a  thing  in  a  play,  or  a  story,  where  everybody 

turns  out  the  most  unexpected  things.     The  Duke  of  B 

is  going  crazy  about  it.  He  had  invited  Germaine  to  his 
house,  and  the  fellow  was  making  the  fiercest  sort  of  love  to 
his  pretty  daughter,  when  all  of  a  sudden,  it  turns  out  that 
he  is  a  robber,  a  gipsy,  a  burglar,  and  all  sorts  of  horrors. 
How  the  deuce  came  it  to  pass  that  he  entered  Eton  with 
us,  and  passed  himself  off  as  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  teil ;  the  whole  affair  is  involved  in  mystery." 
"  You  and  he  were  pretty  intimate — were  you  not,  my 
lord  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  took  a  fancy  to  Germaine  from  the  first ;  and  I 
don't  believe,  yet,  he  is  guilty  of  the  crime  they  charge  him 
with." 

"  You  don't,  eh  ?  See  what  it  is  to  have  faith  in  human 
nature  1     How  are  you  to  get  over  the  evidence." 

"  It  was  only  circumstantial." 

"  Granted  ;  but  it  was  most  conclusive.  There  is  not  an- 
other man  in  London  has  the  slightest  doubt  of  his  guilt 
but  yourself." 

"  Poor  Germaine  i ''  said  Lord  Villiers,  in  a  tone  of  deep 


THE  LOVERS. 


19 


feeling ;  "  with  all  his  brilliant  talents,  his  high  endow- 
ments, and  refined  nature,  to  come  to  such  a  sad  end  I  To 
be  obliged  to  mate  with  the  lowest  of  the  low,  the  vilest  of 
the  vile — mer.  degraded  by  every  species  of  crime,  below  the 
level  of  the  brute  I     And  this  for  life  1     Poor  Germaine  I  " 

The  young  guardsman  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  refined  men  will  steal — oh,  I  forgot  1  you  don't  be- 
lieve it,"  he  said,  as  Lord  Villiers  made  an  impatient  motion, 
"  Well,  I  confess,  I  thought  better  things  of  Germaine  my- 
self. There  was  always  something  of  the  dare-devil  in  him, 
and  he  was  reckless  and  extravagant  to  a  fault ;  but  upon 
my  honor,  I  never  thought  he  could  have  come  to  this. 
Have  you  seen  him  since  his  trial?  " 

"  No,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  meet  him.  Death  would  be 
preferable  to  such  a  fate." 

"  There  was  a  devil  in  his  eye,  if  there  ever  was  in  any 
man's,  when  he  heard  his  sentence,"  observed  the  young 
captain.  "  No  one  that  saw  him  is  likely  to  forget,  in  a 
hurry,  the  way  he  folded  his  arms  and  smiled  in  the  judge's 
face,  as  he  pronounced  it.  By  Jove  I  I'm  not  given  to 
nervousness,  but  I  felt  a  sensation  akin  to  an  ague-shiver,  as 
I  watched  him." 

"  With  his  fierce,  passionate  nature,  it  will  turn  him  into  a 
perfect  demon,"  said  Lord  Villiers ;  "  and  if  ever  he  escapes, 
woe  to  those  who  have  caused  his  disgrace  1  He  is  as  im- 
placable as  death  or  doom  in  his  hate — as  relentless  as  a 
Corsican  in  his  vengeance." 

"  Has  he  any  friends  or  relatives  among  the  gipsies  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  think  I  heard  of  a  mother,  or  brother, 
or  something.  I  intend  paying  him  a  last  visit  to-night,  and 
will  deliver  any  message  he  may  send  to  his  friends." 

"  Will  your  rigorous  father  approve  of  such  a  visit,  since 
it  was  he  that  prosecuted  Germaine?  " 

"  Certainly,  Jernyngham.  My  father,  believing  in  his 
guilt,  thought  it  his  duty  to  do  so  ;  but  he  bears  no  feeling 
of  personal  anger  toward  him,"  said  Lord  Villiers,  gravely. 

"  Well,  I  wish  Germaine  a  safe  passage  across  the  ocean," 
said  Captain  Jernyngham,  as  he  listlessly  admired  his  hand 
in  its  well-fitting  glove.  "  He  was  a  confoundedly  good- 
looking  fellovv' ;  cut  me  completely  out  with  that  pretty  little 
prize  widow  of  old  Sir  Rob  Landers ;  but  I'll  be  magnani- 


;  1.L'  uli  !L^ 


20 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


[;  1 


mous  and  forgive  him  now.  Oh,  by  Jove  I  Villiers,  there 
goes  ady  N^aude  Percy  I"  cried  the  guardsman,  starting 
sudd  y  U|  all  his  listlessness  disappearing  as  if  by  magic. 
"  Ye  •^0^4-,  what  a  p*  rfeftly  dazzling  beauty  1  Ah  I  my 
UikA,  i  thovij^  Ht  you  would  lind  the  subject  more  interesting 
than  that  of  p.jof  Germaine,"  he  added,  with  a  mischievous 
smile  at  his  companion's  look  of  inten.*;e  admiration. 

Lord  Villiers  laughed,  and  his  clear  fact*  flushed. 

*'  1  he  handsomest  girl  in  London,  and  the  greatest  heiress," 
#aJd  the  guardsman,  resuming  his  half-drawl  and  languid 
caiiise-n^  of  his  whiskers.  "  V'  '  nt  an  intensely  enviable 
fellow  yo. )  are,  Villiers,  if  rumor  ib  true." 

"  And  wiiat  says  rumor  ?  "  said  Lord  Villiers,  coldly. 

•'  Why,  that  you  are  the  accepted  lover  of  the  fair  Lady 
Maude." 

Before  the  somewhat  haughty  r:ply  of  Lord  Villiers  was 
spoken,  a  young  lady,  suddenly  entering  the  room,  caught 
sight  of  them,  and  coming  over,  she  addressed  the  guards- 
man with : 

"  George,  you  abominably  lazy  fellow,  have  you  forgotten 
you  are  engaged  for  this  set  to  Miss  Ashton  ?  Really,  my 
lord,  you  ai.d  this  idle  brother  of  mine  ought  to  be  ashamed 
to  make  hermits  of  yourselves  in  this  way,  while  so  many 
bright  eyes  are  watching  for  your  coming.  Lady  Maude  -s 
here,  and  I  will  report  you." 

And,  raising  her  finger  warningly.  Miss  Jernyngham 
tripped  away. 

"  '  Fare  thee  well — and  if  forever  1 '  "  said  Captain  Jernyng- 
ham, in  a  tragic  tone,  as  he  turned  away. 

•' '  Why,  forever  fare  thee  well  1 '  "  said  Lord  Villiers  laugh- 
ing as  he  finished  the  quotation,  and  turned  in  an  opposite 
direction. 

The  dancing  was  at  its  height  as  he  passed  from  the 
music-room.  Standing  a  little  apart,  his  eyes  went  wander- 
ing over  the  fair  forms  tripping  through  the  "  mazy  dance," 
while  they  rested  on  one  form  fairer  than  all  the  rest,  and 
his  handsome  face  brightened,  and  his  fine  eyes  lit  up,  as  a 
man's  alone  does,  when  he  watches  the  woman  he  loves. 

Standing  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  quadrilles  wa,:.  »^he  ob- 
ject of  his  gaze — the  peerless,  high-born  T>adv  Maud?  Pei'CV. 
Eighteen  summers  had  scarce  passed  over  her  youiig  head, 


it^%^ 


THE  LOVERS. 


SI 


as  a 


yet  a  thoughtful,  alrnost  sad,  expression  ever  fell  like  a  shadow 
on  her  beautiful  face.  Her  form  was  rounded,  exquisite, 
perfect;  her  oval  face  perfecl'v  colorless,  save  f  >>  iU*.  full, 
crimson  lips,  her  eyes  large,  da  ,.  and  lustrous  a  ♦  us,  and 
fringed  by  Ion  :,  silken-blacken  lashes  ;  her  shining  hair  fell 
in  soft,  glittering,  spiral  curls,  like  raveled  silk,  round  her 
fair,  moonlight  face ;  and  her  pallor  seemed  deepened  by 
its  raven  hue.  Her  dress  \\  i  of  whiu  brocade,  fringed 
with  seed-pearls ;  and  her  snowy  arms  and  neck  gleamed 
through  misty  clouds  of  point-lace.  Pale,  oriental  pearls, 
wreathed  her  midnight  hair,  and  ran  in  rivers  of  light  around 
her  neck.  Queenly,  peerless,  dazzling,  she  moved  through 
the  l)rilliant  train  of  beauties,  eclipsing  them  all,  as  a  meteor 
outsliines  lesser  stars. 

Drinking  in  the  enchanting  draught  of  her  beauty  to  intoxi- 
cation, Lord  Ernest  Villiers  stood  leaning  against  a  marble 
pillar  until  the  dance  was  concluded  ;  and  then  moving 
toward  her,  as  she  stood  for  an  instant  alone,  he  bent  over 
her,  and  whispered,  in  a  voice  that  was  low  but  full  of 
passion : 

"Maude!  Maude!  why  have  you  tried  to  avoid  me  all 
the  evening  ?  I  must  see  you  1  I  must  speak  to  you  in 
private  1  I  must  hear  my  destiny  from  your  lips  to- 
night !  " 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  voice  she  had  started  quickly, 
and  the  *'  eloquent  blood  "  had  flooded  cheek  and  bosom 
with  its  rosy  light ;  but  as  he  went  on  it  faded  away,  and  a 
sort  of  shiver  passed  through  her  frame  as  he  ceased. 

"  Come  with  me  into  me  music-room — it  is  deserted  now," 
he  said,  drawing  her  arm  through  his.  "  There,  apart  from 
all  those  prying  eyes,  I  can  learn  my  fate." 

Paler  still  grew  the  pale  face  of  the  lady ;  but,  without  a 
word,  she  suffered  herself  to  be  led  to  the  shadowy  and  de- 
serted room  he  had  just  left. 

"  And  now,  Maude — my  own  love — may  I  claim  an  answer 
to  the  question  1  asked  you  last  night  ? "  he  caid,  bending 
over  her. 

"  I  answered  you  then,  my  lord,"  she  said,  sadly. 

"  Yes  ;  you  told  me  to  go — to  forget  you ;  as  if  such  a 


111111; 


were   p'oDD 


ijSibk 


Maude, 


I  cannot,    I 
for  an  answer.     Tell  me,  do  you  love  me  ?  " 


will 


karCe     that 


-     £^     ^  'iJ  L 


31MQ     L 


22 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"  Oh,  Ernest — oh,  my  dear  lord  1  you  know  I  do !  "  she 
cried,  passionately. 

"  Then,  Maude — my  beautiful  one — will  you  not  be  mine 
> — my  wife  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  1  I  cannot  1  Oh,  Ernest,  I  cannot  1  "  she 
said,  with  a  convulsive  sudder. 

'*  Cannot/    And  why,  in  Heaven's  name  ?  " 

"  My  lord,  that  is  my  secret.  I  can  never,  never  be  your 
wife.  Choose  some  one  worthier  of  you,  and  forget  Maude 
Percy." 

She  tried  to  steady  her  voice,  but  a  stifled  sob  finished 
the  sentence. 

For  all  answer  he  gathered  her  in  his  strong  arms,  and 
her  head  dropped  on  his  shoulder. 

"  My  poor  little  romantic  Maude,  what  is  this  wonderful 
secret  ?  "  he  said,  smihng.  "  Tell  me,  and  we  will  see  if 
your  mountain  does  not  turn  out  a  molehill  after  all.  Now, 
why  cannot  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

"  You  think  me  weak  and  silly,  my  lord,"  she  said,  rais- 
ing her  head  somewhat  proudly,  and  withdrawing  from  his 
retaining  arms ;  "  but  there  is  a  reason,  one  sufl&cient  to 
separate  us  forever — one  that  neither  you  nor  any  living 
mortal  can  ever  know  I  " 

"  And  you  refuse  to  tell  this  reason  ?  My  father  and 
yours  are  eager  for  this  match  ;  in  worldly  rank  we  are 
equals ;  I  love  you  passionately,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul, 
and  still  you  refuse.  Maude,  you  never  loved  me,"  he  said, 
bitterly. 

Her  pale  sweet  face  was  bent  in  her  hands  now,  and 
large  tears  fell  through  her  fingers. 

"  Maude,  you  will  not  be  so  cruel,"  he  said,  with  sudden 
hope.     "  Only  say  I  may  hope  for  this  dear  hand." 

"  No,  no.  Hope  for  nothing  but  to  forget  one  so  miser- 
able as  I  am.  Oh,  Lord  Ernest !  there  are  so  many 
better  and  worthier  than  I  am,  who  will  love  you.  I  will  be 
your  friend — your  sister,  if  I  may ;  but  I  can  never  be  your 
wife." 

"  Maude,  is  there  guilt,  is  there  crime  connected  with  this 
secret  of  yours  ?  "  he  demanded,  stepping  before  her. 

She  rose  to  her  feet  impetuously,  her  cheeks  crimsoning, 


THE  LOVERS. 


23 


her  large  eyes  filling  and  darkening  with  indignation,  her 
noble  brow  expanded,  her  haughty  little  head  erect. 

''  And  you  think  me  capable  of  crime,  Lord  Villiers  ? — of 
guilt  that  needs  concealment  ? "  she  said,  with  proud 
scorn. 

"  You,  Maude  ?  No ;  sooner  would  I  believe  an  angel 
from  heaven  guilty  of  crime,  than  you.  But  I  thought  there 
mifht  be  others  involved.  Oh,  Lady  Maude  1  must  this 
secret,  that  involves  the  happiness  of  my  whole  life,  remain 
hidden  from  me  ?  " 

The  bright  light  had  died  out  from  the  beautiful  eyes  of 
Lady  Maude  ;  and  her  tone  was  very  sad,  as  she  replied  : 

"  Some  day,  my  lord,  I  will  tell  you  all ;  but  not  now.  Let 
us  part  here,  and  let  this  subject  never  be  renewed  between 
us." 

"  One  word,  Maude — do  you  love  me  ?  " 

"  I  do  !  I  do  1     Heaven  forgive  me  1  " 

"  Now,  why,  '  Heaven  forgive  me  ? '  Maude  I  Maude  1 
you  will  drive  me  mad  1  Is  it  such  a  crime  to  love  me 
then  ? " 

"  In  some  it  is,"  she  said,  in  her  low,  sad  voice. 

"  And  why,  fairest  saint  ?  " 

"  Do  not  ask  me,  my  lord.  Oh,  Ernest  1  let  me  go,  I  am 
tired  and  sick,  and  very,  very  unhappy.  Dearest  Ernest, 
leave  me,  and  never  speak  of  this  again." 

"  As  you  will,  Lady  Maude,"  he  said,  with  a  bow,  turning 
haughtily  away. 

But  a  light  touch,  that  thrilled  to  his  very  heart,  was  laid 
on  his  arm,  and  the  low,  sweet  voice  of  Lady  Maude  said : 

"  I  have  offended  you,  my  lord ;  pray  forgive  me." 

"  I  am  not  offended.  Lady  Maude  Percy ;  neither  have  I 
anything  to  forgive,"  he  said  ;  but  his  fine  face  was  clouded 
with  mortification.  "  You  have  rejected  me,  and  I  presume 
the  matter  ends  there." 

"  But  you  are  offended,  I  can  hear  it  in  your  voice.  Oh, 
Lord  Villiers,  if  you  knew  how  unhappy  I  am,  you  would 
forgive  me  the  pain  I  have  caused  you." 

Her  tone  touched  him,  and  taking  her  hand  gently,  he 
said: 


Tf"    1C    T    \irV*r\ 


-7  1 1  •-. 


'VIM  I    ci^rv    L\ji ; 


X7X  a,  U.U  \^ . 


1  '^a. 


I  will  accept  the  friendship  you  offer,  until  such   time  as  I 


TI^ 


•3L\fQ     i 


•n'f '  ■^fr'i't""^-'-'  "'"'^ 


24 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


Notwithstanding  all  you  have 


"What's  that  about  gipsies 
little  Miss   Jernyngham,  passing 


can  claim  a  better  reward, 
said,  I  do  not  despair  still." 

He  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  was  gone. 

"  Excuse  me,  your  lordship, "  insinuated  a  most  aris- 
tocratic footman  in  his  ear,  at  that  moment,  "  but  there  is  an 
individual  downstairs  who  persists  on  seeing  the  earl,  and 
and  won't  take  no  for  an  answer." 

•*  Who  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Lord  Villiers,  impatiently. 

"A  gipsy,  my  lord,  a  desperate-looking  old  tramper,  too." 

?  "    said  the  unceremonious 
at   that  moment.     "  You 
must  know,  my  lord,  I  fairly  dote  on   gipsies,  ever  since  I 
saw  that  charming  young  man  they  are  going  to  transport." 

"  How  I  wish  I  were  a  [  ipsy  1 "  said  Lord  Villiers,  gayly, 
"  for  such  a  reward." 

"  Pray  spare  your  pretty  speeches  for  Lady  Maude  Percy, 
my  lord,"  lisped  Miss  Jernyngham,  giving  him  a  tap  with 
her  fan  ;  "  but  about  this  gipsy — is  it  a  man  or  woman  ?  " 

"  A  woman,  Miss,  they  call  her  the  gipsy  queen,  Ketura." 

"  A  gipsy  queen  !  oh,  delightful  1  "  cried  the  young  lady, 
clapping  her  hands  ;  "  my  lord,  we  must  have  her  up,  by  all 
means.     I  insist  on  having  my  fortune  told." 

"  Your  slave  hears  but  to  obey.  Miss  Jernyngham."  said 
Lord  Villiers,  with  a  bow.  **  Jonson,  go  and  bring  the  old 
lady  up." 

"  Yes,  me  lud,"  said  Jonson,  hurrying  off. 

*♦  George — George !  do  come  here  1  "  exclaimed  the  young 
lady,  as  her  brother  passed ;     "  I  want  you  1  " 

"  What's  all  this  about  ?  "  said  the  guardsman,  lounging 
up.  "  My  dear  Clara,  the  way  you  do  get  the  steam  up  at  a 
moment's  notice  is  perfectly  astonishing.  What  can  I  do 
for  you  ? " 

"  Do  you  want  to  have  your  fortune  told  ?  " 

"  If  any  good  sibyl  would  predict  for  me  a  rich  wife,  who 
would  pay  my  debts,  and  keep  me  provided  with  kid  gloves 
and  cigars,  I  wouldn't  object ;  but  in  any  other  case — " 

His  speech  was  cut  short  by  the  sudden  appearance  of 
the  footman  with  the  gipsy  queen,  of  whom  he  seemed  con- 
siderably afraid.  And  truly  not  without  reason  ;  for  a  lion- 
ess in  her  lair  might  have  looked  about  as  safe  an  animal 
as  the  dark,  fierce-eyed  gipsy  queen.     Even  the  two  young 


THE  I.OVERS. 


25 


men  started  ;  and   Miss   Clara  Jernyngham  stifled  a  little 
scream  behind  her  fan. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Earl  De  Courcy,"  was  her  abrupt  demand. 

"  And  we  wish  our  fortune  told,  good  mother,"  said  Lord 
Villiers;  "my  father  will  attend  to  you  presently," 

"  Your  father  I  "  said  the  woman,  fixing  her  piercing  eyes 
on  his  handsome  face,  "  then  you  are  Lord  Villiers  ?  " 

"  You  have  guessed  it.  What  has  the  future  in  store  for 
me?" 

"  Nothing  good  for  your  father's  son,"  she  hissed  through 
her  clenched  teeth.     "  Give  me  your  hand." 

He  extended  it,  with  a  smile,  and  she  took  it  in  hers,  and 
peered  into  it.  What  a  contrast  they  were !  his,  white, 
^all,  and  delicate ;  her  hand,  bronzed  and  rough. 

"  Well,  mother,  what  has  destiny  in  store  for  me  ?  " 

"  Much  good  or  more  evil.  This  night  decides  thy  des- 
tiny ;  either  thou  shalt  be  blessed  for  life,  or  if  the  scale 
turns  against  thee— then  woe  to  thee  1  Stand  aside— the 
earl  comes." 

A  tall,  distinguished-looking  man,  of  middle  age,  ap- 
proached, and  looked  with  grave  surprise  on  the  group  be- 
fore him. 

"A  word  with  you,  lord-earl,"  said  the  gipsy,  confronting 
him. 

"  Speak  out,  then." 

"  It  must  be  in  private." 

*'  Who  are  you  ?  "  said  the  earl,  surprised  and  curious. 

"I  am  called  the  gipsy  queen,  Ketura,"  said  the  woman, 
drawing  herself  up. 

"  And  what  do  you  want  of  me,  woman  ? " 

"  I  tell  you  I  must  speak  in  private.  Is  your  time  so 
precious  that  you  cannot  grant  ten  minutes  of  it  to  me  ?  " 
said  the  woman,  with  a  fiercely-impatient  flash  of  her  black 
eyes. 

'*  This  way,  then,"  said  the  earl,  impressed  by  the  wo- 
man's commanding  look  and  tones,  as  he  turned  and  led  the 
way  across  a  wide,  lighted  hall  to  a  richly-furnished  library. 

Seating  himself  in  a  softly-cushioned  lounging-chair,  he 
waited  for  his  singular  visitor  to  begin. 


itioiML 


iX*.         Mm.     JLm    n<uL 


26 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   gipsy's   vow. 

«'  May  the  grass  wither  from  thy  feet !  the  woods 
Deny  thee  shelter  !  earth,  a  home  I  the  dust, 
A  grave  I  the  sun,  his  light  I  and  heaven,  her  God  I 

— Byron. 

"Well,  madam,  I  am  waiting,"  said  the  earl,  after  a 
pause,  during  which  the  wild,  black  eyes  of  the  woman  were 
fixed  immovably  on  his  face,  until  he  began  to  grow  uneasy 
under  the  steady  glare. 

"  Lord  earl,  behold  at  thy  feet  a  mother  who  comes  to 
plead  for  her  son,"  said  the  strange  woman,  sinking  on  her 
knees  at  his  feet,  and  holding  up  her  clasped  hands. 

"Madam,  I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  earl,  surprised, 
and  feeling  himself  obliged,  as  it  were,  to  use  a  respectful 
form  of  address,  by  the  woman's  commanding  look. 

"  My  son  is  in  your  power !  my  darling,  my  only  son !  my 
first-born  !  Oh,  spare  him  1 "  said  the  woman,  still  holding 
up  her  clasped  hands. 

"  Your  son  ?  Madam,  I  do  not  understand,"  said  the 
earl,  knitting  his  brows  in  perplexity. 

"  You  have  condemned  him  to  transportation  I  And  he 
is  innocent— as  innocent  of  the  crime  for  which  he  is  to 
suffer  as  the  angels  in  heaven,"  cried  the  woman,  in  passion- 
ate tones. 

**  Madam,  I  assure  you,  I  do  not  understand.  Who  is 
your  son  ? "  said  the  earl,  more  and  more  perplexed. 

"  You  know  him  as  Germaine,  but  he  is  my  son,  Reginald 

my  only  son  1     Oh,    my  lord  1  spare   him  I  spare  him  1  " 

wildly  pleaded  the  gipsy  queen. 
"  Madam,  rise." 

"  Not  until  you  have  pardoned  my  son." 
"  That  I  will  never  do  1     Your  son  has  been  found  guilty 
of  .wilful  robberv,  and  has  been  very  justly  condemned.     I 


THE  GIPSY'S  VOW. 


27 


can  do  nothing  for  him,"  said  the  earl,  while  his  brow  grew 
dark,  and  his  mouth  hard  and  stern. 

"  My  lord,  he  is  innocent  1  "  almost  shrieked  the  wretched 
woman  at  his  feet. 

"  I  do  not  believe  it  1  He  has  been  proven  guilty,"  said 
the  earl,  coldly. 

"  It  is  false  1  as  false  as  the  black  hearts  of  the  perjurers 
who  swore  against  him  I  "  fiercely  exclaimed  the  gipsy ;  "  he 
is  innocent  of  this  crime,  as  innocent  of  it  as  thou  art,  lord 
earl.  Oh,  Earl  De  Courcy,  as  you  hope  for  pardon  from 
God,  pardon  him." 

"  Madam,  I  command  you  to  rise." 

"  Never,  never !  while  my  son  is  in  chains  I     Oh,  my  lord, 
you  do  not  know,  you  never   can  dream,    how  I  have  loved 
that  boy  1     I  had  no  one  else  in  the  wide  world  to  love ;  not 
a  drop  of  kindred  blood  ran  in    any  human   heart  but  his  ; 
and  I  lov  d,  I  adored,  I  worshiped  him  !     Oh,    Earl    De 
Courcy,  I  have    suffered  cold,  and  hunger,  and  thirst,  and 
hardship,  that  he  might  never  want ;  I    have  toiled  for  him 
night  and  day,  that  he  might  never  feel  pain  ;  I  have  stooped 
to  actions  I  loathed,  that  he  might   be  happy  and  free  from 
guilt.     And,  when  he  grew  older,  I  gave   him  up,  though  it 
was  like  rending  soul  and  body  apart.     I  sent  him  away ;  I 
I  sent  him  to  school  with  the  money  that  years  and  years  of 
unceasing  toil    had  enabled  me  to   save.     I  sent  him  to  be 
educated  with  gentlemen.     I  never  came  near  him,  lest  any 
one  should  suspect  his  mother   was  a  gipsy.     Yes ;  I  gave 
him  up,   though   it  was  like  tearing  my  very   heart-stri.igs 
apart,  content  in  knowing  he  was  happy,  and  in  seeing  him 
at  a  distance  at  long  intervals.     For  twenty-three  years,  my 
life  has  been  one  long  dream  of  him  ;  sleeping  or  waking,  in 
suffering  and  trial,  the  thought  that  he  was  near  me  gave  me 
joy  and  strength.     And  now  he  is  condemned  for  life—con- 
demned to  a  far-off  land,  among  convicts  and  felons,  where  I 
will  never  see  him  again  1     Oh,  Lord   De  Courcy  I  mercy, 
mercy  for  my  son  I  " 

With  the  wild  cry  of  a  mother's  agony,  she  shrieked  out 
that  frenzied  appeal  for  mercy,  and  groveled  prone  to  the 
floor  at  his  feet. 

A  SDasm  of  nain  nasspd  nvpr  fhe  f-^f^o  r\(  fV,^  ^orl  ^"t-  Ka 
answered,  sternly: 


-'■iTf- 

AtmL 


■31\fQ     i 


28 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"  Woman,  your  son  is  guilty.  I  cannot  pardon  him  1  '* 
«'  He  is  not  guilty  1  Perish  the  soul  so  base  as  to  believe 
-uch  a  falsehood  of  my  high-hearted  boy  1  "  cried  the  gipsy, 
dashing  fiercely  back  her  wildly-streaming  black  hair.  "  He 
my  proud,  glorious,  kindly-hearted  Reginald,  stoop  to  such 
a  crime  1     Oh,  sooner  could  the  angels  themselves  be  guilty 

of  it  than  he  I"  „  •     • 

"  Woman,  you  rave  1     Once  again  I  tell  you,  rise  1 

"  Pardon,  pardon  for  my  son  1  " 

"  Madam,  I  cannot.  I  pity  you.  Heaven  knows  I  do  I 
but  he  is  guilty,  and  must  suffer."  .    ,     , 

"  Oh,  my  God  I  how  shall  I  convince  him  ?  cried  the 
wretched  woman,  wringing  her  hands  in  wildest  despair. 
"Oh  Earl  De  Courcyl  you,  too,  have  a  son,  handsome, 
gallakt  and  noble,  the  pride  of  your  old  age,  the  last  scion 
of  your  proud  race  1     For  his  sake,  for  the  sake  of  your  son, 

pardon  mine ! "  .  j  ;] 

"  Once  more  I  tell  you,  I  cannot.  Your  son  is  condemned ; 
to-morrow  his  sentence  will  be  executed,  and  I  have  no 
power  to  avert  it.  And,  madam,  though  I  pity  you  deeply, 
I  must  again  say  he  deserves  it.  Nay— hear  me  out.  I 
know  you  do  not  believe  it ;  you  think  him  innocent,  and, 
being  his  mother,  it  is  natural  you  should  think  so  ;  but,  be- 
lieve me,  he  is  none  the  less  guilty.  Your  son  deserves  his 
fate,  all  the  more  so  for  his  ingratitude  to  you,  after  all  you 
have  done  for  him.     I  deeply  pity  you,  as  Heaven  hears  me, 

Idol"  ,       r     V     f 

"  Oh,  then,  for  my  sake,  if  there  is  one  spark  of  pity  tor 
me  in  your  heart,  do  not  kill  ine  !  For,  Lord  De  Courcy, 
it  will  be  a  double  murder,  his  death  and  mine,  if  this  sen- 
tence  is  executed."  . 

"  The  law  must  take  its  course  ;  I  cannot  prevent  it.  And 
once  more,  madam,  I  beseech  you  to  rise.  You  should 
kneel  to  God  alone." 

"  God  would  forgive  him,  had  I  pleaded  to  Him  thus ; 
but  you,  tiger-heart,  you  will  not  1  "  shrieked  the  woman, 
throwing  up  her  arms  in  the  impotence  of  her  despair.  "Oh, 
lord  earl,  I  have  never  knelt  to  God  or  man  before ;  and  to 
have  my  petition  spurned  now !  You  hold  my  life  m  the 
hollow  of  your  hand,  and  you  will  not  grant 

"  I  tell  you  I  cannot." 


It  it  1  " 


%, 


THE  GIPSY'S  VOW. 


29 


"  You  can — you  can  1  It  is  in  your  power  ?  You  are 
great,  and  rich,  and  powerful,  and  can  have  his  sentence 
annulled.  By  your  soul's  salvation,  by  your  hopes  of 
heaven,  by  your  mother's  grave,  by  Him  whom  you  worship, 
I  conjure  you  to  save  my  son  I  " 

The  haggard  face  was  convulsed  ;  the  brow  was  dark, 
and  corrugated  with  agony ;  the  lips  white  and  quiver- 
ing ;  the  eyes  wild,  lurid,  blazing  with  anguish  and 
despair ;  her  clenched  hands  upraised  in  passionate  prayer 
for  pardon,  A  fearful  sight  was  that  despair-maddened 
woman,  as  she  knelt  at  the  stern  earl's  feet,  her  very  voice 
sharp  with  inward  agony. 

He  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hands  to  keep  out  the  pitiful 
sight ;  but  his  stern,  determined  look  passed  not  away. 
His  face  seemed  hardened  with  iron,  despite  the  deep  pity 
of  his  heart. 

"  You  are  yielding  1  He  will  yet  be  saved  1  Oh,  I  knew 
the  iron-heart  would  soften  1  "  she  cried  out,  with  maniac 
exultation,  taking  hope  from  his  silence. 

'*  My  poor  woman,  you  deceive  yourself.  I  can  do  noth- 
ing for  your  son,"  said  the  earl,  sadly. 

"  What  1  Do  you  still  refuse  ?  Oh,  it  cannot  be  1  I  am 
going  mad,  I  think  I  Tell  me — tell  me  that  my  son  will 
live  ! " 

"  Woman,  I  have  no  power  over  your  son's  life." 

"  Oh,  you  have — you  have  1  Do  you  think  he  could 
live  one  single  day  among  those  with  whom  you  would  send 
him  ?  As  you  hope  for  pardon  on  that  last  dread  day,  par- 
don my  son  !  " 

"  It  is  all  in  vain.     Rise,  madam." 

"  You  refuse  ?  " 

"  I  do.      Rise  I  " 

With  the  fearful  bound  of  a  wild  beast,  she  sprung  to  her 
feet,  and,  awful  in  her  rage,  like  a  tigress  robbed  of  her 
young,  she  stood  before  him.  Even  the  stern  earl  drew  back 
in  dismay. 

"  Then,  heart  of  steel,  hear  me  !  "  she  cried,  raising  one 
long  arm  toward  heaven,  and  speaking  in  a  voice  terrific  in 
its  very  depth  of  despair.  "  Tiger-heart,  listen  to  me  !  From 
th''^  moment  I  vow.  before  God  and  all  his  angels,  to  devote 
my  whole  life  to  revenge  on  you !     Living,  may  ruin,  misery, 


ilt'.iih' 


••3ava 


30 


run  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  vow. 


and  despair,  equal  to  mine,  be  your  portion  ;  dead,  may  you 
never  rest  in  the  earth  you  sprung  from  1  And,  when  stand- 
ing before  the  judgment-seat  of  God,  you  sue  for  pardon, 
may  He  hurl  your  miserable  soul  back  to  perdition  for  an 
answer  1  May  my  curse  descend  to  your  children  and 
children's  children  forever!  May  misery  here  and  here- 
after be  their  portion  !  May  every  earthly  and  eternal  evil 
follow  a  wronged  mother's  curse  1  " 

Appalled,  horrified,  the  iron  earl  shrunk  back  from  that 
awful,  ghastly  look,  and  that  convulsive,  terrific  face — that 
face  of  a  fiend,  and  not  of  mortal  woman.  A  moment  after, 
when  he  raised  his  head,  he  was  alone,  and  the  gipsy,  Ke- 
tura,  was  gone.     Whither  ? 


CHAPTER  V. 


MOTHER  AND  SON. 


m 

[•nJ 


**  Oh,  my  son,  Absalom  !    my  son,  my  son  Absalom  !     Would  to  God, 
I  might  die  for  thee  !     Oh  !  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  I ' 

That  same  night ;  that  night  of  storm  and  tempest  with- 
out, and  still  fiercer  storm  and  tempest  within ;  that  same 
night — three  hours  later;  in  a  narrow,  dark,  noisome  cell, 
with  grated  window  and  iron-barred  door,  with  a  rude  pallet 
of  straw  comprising  the  furniture,  and  one  flickering,  uncer- 
tain lamp  lighting  its  tomb-like  darkness,  sat  two  young  men. 

One  of  these  was  a  youth  of  three-and-twenty  ;  tall  and 
slender  in  form,  with  a  dark,  clear  complexion ;  a  strikingly- 
handsome  face  ;  a  fierce,  flashing  eye  of  fire  ;  thick,  cluster- 
ing curls  of  jet ;  a  daring,  reckless  air,  and  an  expression 
of  mingled  scorn,  hatred,  defiance  and  fierceness  in  his  face. 
There  were  fetters  on  his  slender  wrists  and  ankles,  and  he 
wore  the  degrading  dress  of  a  condemned  felon. 

By  his  side  sat  Lord  Ernest  Villiers — his  handsome  face 
looking  deeply  sad  and  grave. 

"And  this  is  all,  Germaine  ? "  he  said,  sorrowfully. 
*'  Can  I  do  nothing  at  all  for  you  ? " 

"Nothing.      What  do  you' think  I  want?      Is  not  the 


fa 


MOTHER  AND  SON. 


31 


,  may  you 
en  stand- 
pardon, 
Dn  for  an 
Iren  and 
ind  here- 
ernal  evil 

rem  that 
ice — that 
lent  after, 
ipsy,  Ke- 


el to  God, 

nl' 

)est  with' 
lat  same 
Dme  cell, 
ide  pallet 
ig,  uncer- 
ung  men. 

tall  and 
trikingly- 
c,  cluster- 
tpression 

his  face. 
s,  and  he 

)me  face 

rowfully. 

not  the 


SAJ 


government,  in  its  fatherly  care,  going  to  clothe,  feed,  and 
provide  for  me  during  the  remainder  of  my  mortal  life  ? 
Why,  man,  do  you  think  me  unreasonable?  " 

He  laughed  a  bitter,  mocking  laugh,  terrible  to  hear. 

"  Germaine,  Heaven  knows,  if  I  could  do  anyt^mg  for 
you,  I  would  !  "  said  Lord  Villiers,  excitedly.  "  My  father, 
like  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  believes  you  guilty,  and  I  cari 
do  nothing.  But  if  it  will  be  any  consolation,  remember 
that  you  leave  one  in  England  who  still  believes  you  inno- 
cent." 

"  Thank  you,  Villiers.  There  is  another,  too,  who,  I 
think,  will  hardly  believe  I  have  taken  to  petty  pilfering, 
your  father  and  the  rest  of  the  magnates  of  the  land  to  the 
contrary,  notwithstanding." 

"  Who  is  that,  Germaine  ?  " 

"  My  mother." 

"Where  is  she?  Can  I  bring  her  to  you?"  said  Lord 
Villiers,  starting  up. 

"  You  are  very  kind  ;  but  it  is  not  in  your  power  to  do 
so,"  said  the  prisoner,  quietly.  "  My  mother  is  probably  in 
Yetholm  with  her  tribe.  You  don't  need  to  be  told  now  I 
am  a  gipsy  ;  my  interesting  family  history  was  pretty  gener- 
ally made  known  at  my  trial." 

Again  he  laughed  that  short,  sarcastic  laugh  so  sad  to 
hear. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  think  none  the  worse  of  you  for  that 
Gipsy  or  Saxon,  I  cannot  forget  you  once  saved  my  life, 
and  that  you  have  for  years  been  my  best  friend." 

"  Well,  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  there  is  one  in  the 
world  who  cares  for  me  ;  and  if  I  do  die  like  a  dog  among 
my  fellow-convicts,  my  last  hour  will  be  cheered  by  the 
thought,"  said  the  young  man,  drawing  a  deep  breath.  "  If 
ever  you  see  my  mother,  which  is  not  likely,  tell  her  I  was 
grateful  for  all  she  did  for  me ;  you  need  not  tell  her  I 
was  innocent,  for  she  will  know  that.  There  is  another, 
too—" 

He  paused,  and  his  dark  face  flushed,  and  then  grew 
paler  than  before. 

"  My  dear  Germaine,  if  there  is  any  message  I  can  carry 

for    VOU,  VOU    have    onlv  tn    rommanH    mf>  "  cdid    thf»    irminor 


I 


lord, 


warmly. 


K]k':jliclk.^,  .m.   'L.   ^M.%mM. 


•aiwa 


3-^ 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i 


ill 

m 


"  No ;  it  is  as  well  she  should  not  know  it — better,  per- 
haps," nuittered  the  prisoner,  half  to  himself.  "  I  thank 
you  for  your  friendly  kindness,  Villiers  ;  but  it  will  not  be 
necessarv." 

"  And  your  mother,  Geruiaine,  how  am  I  to  know  her  .-•  " 

'•  Oh,  1  forgot  1  Well,  she's  called  the  gipsy  Ketura,  and 
is  qiiocii  of  her  tribe.  It  is  something  to  be  a  queen's  son 
is  it  not .''  "  he  said,  with  another  hard,  short  laugh. 

"  Ketura,  did  you  say  ?  "  repeated  Lord  Villiers,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Yes.     What  has  surprised  you  now  ?  " 

"Why,  the  simple  fact  that  I  saw  her  three  hours  ago." 

"  Saw  her  1     Where  ?  " 

"  At  my  father's  house.     She  came  to  see  him." 

Germaine  sprung  up,  and  while  his  eyes  fiercely  flashed, 
he  exclaimed  : 

"  Came  to  see  Lord  De  Courcy  ?  My  mother  came  to  see 
him  ?  Villiers,  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  my  mother  came 
to  beg  for  my  life  ? " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  really  do  not  know.  The  inter ''ew 
was  a  private  one.  All  I  do  know  is,  that  half  an  hour  nAer 
my  father  returned  among  his  guests,  looking  very  much  as 
if  he  had  just  seen  a  ghost.  In  fact,  I  nevir  saw  him  with 
so  startled  a  look  in  all  my  life  before.  Whether  your 
mother  had  anything  to  do  with  it  or  not,  I  really  cannot 
say." 

"  If  I  thought  she  could  stoop  to  sue  for  me,"  exclaimed 
the  youth,  through  his  clenched  teeth  ;  "  br:t  no,  my  mother 
was  too  proud  to  do  it.  My  poor,  poor  mo.'i.er  1  How  was 
she  looking,  Villiers  ?  " 

"  Very  haggard,  very  thin,  very  worn  and  wild ;  very 
wretched,  in  a  word — though  that  was  to  be  expected." 

"  Poor  mother  I  "  murmured  the  youth,  with  quivering 
lips,  as  he  bowed  his  face  in  his  manacled  hands,  and  his 
manly  chest  rose  and  fell  with  strong  emotion. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Lord  Villiers,  with  tears  in  his 
own  eyes.  "  your  mother  shall  never  want  while  I  live." 
The  prisoner  wrung  his  hand  in  silence. 

"  If  you  like,  I  will  try  to  discover  her,  and  send  her  to 
you  before  you — "  «- 

His  voice  choked,  and  he  stopped. 


7. 


MOTHER  AND  SON. 


33 


i — better,  per- 
f.  "  I  thank 
it  will   not  be 

know  her  ?  " 
y  Ketura,  and 
I  queen's  son 
ugh. 
lUiers,  in  sur- 


hours  ago." 

im." 

ircely  flashed, 

it  came  to  see 
mother  came 

rhe  inter''ew 
an  hour  nOer 
very  much  as 
aw  him  w'.th 
Whether  your 
really  cannot 

e,"  exclaimed 
0,  my  mother 

r  1     How  was 

1   wild;    very 
ipected." 
ith  quivering 
inds,  and  his 

tears  in  his 
;  I  live." 

send  her  to 


«*  My  dear  Villicrs,  you  have  indeed  proven  yourself  my 
friend,"  said  the  convict,  gratefully.  "  If  you  could  see  her, 
and  send  her  to  me  before  I  leave  England  to-morrow,  you 
would  be  conferring  the  greatest  possible  favor  on  me. 
There  are  several  things  of  which  I  wish  to  speak  to  her, 
and  which  I  cannot  reveal  to  any  one  else — not  even  to  you." 

"  Then  I  will  instantly  go  in  search  of  her,"  said  Lord 
Villiers,  rising  and  taking  his  hat.  "  My  dear  Germaine, 
good  by." 

"  Farewell,  Ernest.     God  bless  you  1  " 

The  hand  of  the  peer  and  the  gipsy  met  in  a  strong  clasp, 
but  neither  could  speak. 

And  so  they  parted.  The  prison  door  closed  between  the 
convicted  felon  and  his  high-born  friend.  Did  either  dream 
how  strangely  they  were  destined  to  meet  again  ?  With  his 
face  shaded  by  Ins  hand,  the  prisoner  sat ;  that  small  white 
hand,  delicate  as  a  lady's,  doomed  now  to  the  unceasing 
labor  of  the  convict,  when  a  noise  as  of  persons  in  alterca- 
tion in  the  passage  without  met  his  ears.  He  raised  his 
head  to  listen,  and  recognized  the  gruff,  hoarse  voice  of  his 
jailer ;  then  the  sharp,  passionate  voice  of  a  woman ;  and, 
lastly,  the  calm,  clear  tones  of  Lord  Ernest  Villiers.  His 
words  seemed  to  decide  the  matter ;  for  the  huge  key  turned 
in  the  rusty  lock,  the  heavy  door  swung  back  on  its  hinges, 
and  the  tall  form  of  gipsy  Ketura  passed  into  the  cell. 

"  Mother  I  " 

The  prisoner  started  to  his  feet,  and  with  a  passionate 
cry  :  "  Oh,  my  son  I  my  son  !  "  he  was  clasped  in  the  arms 
of  his  mother—  clasped  and  held  there  in  a  fierce  embrace, 
as  though  she  defied  Heaven  itself  to  tear  them  apart. 

"  Thank  Heaven,  mother,  that  I  see  you  again  1  *' 

"  Heaven  1  "  she  broke  out,  with  passionate  fierceness  ; 
"  never  mention  it  again  1  What  is  heaven,  and  God,  and 
mercy,  ana  iiappiness  ?  All  a  mockery,  and  worse  than  a 
mockery  1  " 

"  My  poor  mother  I  " 

"  What  have  I  done,  that  I  should  lose  you !  "  she  cried, 
with  a  still-increasing  fierceness.  "  What  crime  have  I  com- 
mitted, that  I  should  be  doomed  to  a  hell  upon  earth  ?  He 
was  conceived  in  sin  and  born  in  iniquity,  even  as  I  was ; 
yet  the  Uod  you  call  upon  permits  him  to  live  happy,  rich, 


mmJimk 


'Ak\ 


34 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


honored,  and  prosperous,  while  I-oh  I  it  maddens  me  to 
think  of  It  I  But  I  w.ll  have  revenge  I  "-she  added,  while 
her  fierce  eyes  blazed,  and  her  long,  bony  hand  clenched- 
'  yes,  fearful  revenge!  If  I  am  doomed  to  perdition  I 
shall  drag  him  down  along  with  me  I  " 

"  Mother  I  mother  I     Do  not  talk  so  1     Be  calm  !  " 

>  Calm  I     With  these  flames,  like  eternal  fires,  raging  in 

Zn  ^o^V^irtla"  Lg?.'?'  '-'  '''  ''-  -''^  '-^^  ^^^'^'-^ 

"Mother,  you  are  going  mad!"  said  the   young   man 
almost  sternly.     "  Unless  you  are  calm,  we  must  part." 

Oh,  yes  !  We  will  part  to-morrow.  You  will  go  over 
the  boundless  sea  with  all  the  thieves,  and  murderers,  and 
scum  of  London,  and  I-I  will  live  for  revenge.  By-and-bv 
you  wil   kill  yourself,  and  I  will  be  hung  for  his  murder."  ^ 

She  laughed  a  dreary,  cheerless  laugh,  while  her  eyes 
grew  unnaturally  bnght  with  the  fires  of  incipient  insanity. 

-Poor  mother!"  said  the  youth,   sadly.     "This  is  the 
hardest  blow  of  all!     Try  and  bear  up,  for^  sake,  mother 
Did  you  see  Lord  De  Courcy  to-night .?  " 

"I  did.  May  Heaven's  heaviest  curses  light  on  him  !  " 
exclaimed  the  woman,  passionately.  "  Oh  I  to  think  that  he. 
that  any  man,  should  hold  my  son's  life  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand   while  I  am  here  obliged  to  look  on,  powerless  to  avert 

Ind  hcTeafteH^X  '"'^'  ^"^'^  "^"^^^"^^  "^^^  ^^  ^im,  here 
Her  face  was  black  with  tLe  terrific  storm  of  inward  pas- 
sion ;  her  eves  glaring,  blazing,  like  those  of  z  wild  beast; 
her  long,  talon  like  fingers  clenched  until  the  nails  sunk  deep 
m  the  quivering  flesh.  ^ 

■  "u?^.  M^^'^^"^',"^  y^*"  ^^°°P  to  sue  for  pardon  for  me  to- 
night ?  said  the  young  man,  while  his  brow  contracted  with 
a  dark  frown. 

T  'V^'  \^l^  '  ^  ^'"^  ■  ^  g^o^eled  at  his  '^et.  I  cried,  I  shrieked, 
I  adjured  him  to  pardon  you-I,  wh.  ver  knelt  to  God  oi^ 
man  before-and  he  refused  1  I  kissed  the  dust  at  his  feet, 
and  he  replied  by  a  cold  refusal.  But  woe  to  thee.  Earl  De 
Courcy!  she  cried,  bounding  to  her  feet,  and  dashing  back 
her  wild  black  hair.  "  Woe  to  thee,  and  all  thy  house  !  for 
It  were  safer  to  tamper  with  the  lightning's  chain  than  with 
the  aroused  tigress  Ketura." 


!i 


MOTHER  AND  SON. 


Idens  me  to 

tdded,  while 

clenched — 

perdition,  I 

ml  " 

:s,  raging  in 

is  life-blood 

'oung   man, 

part." 

will  go  over 
derers,  and 

By-and-by 
murder." 
le  her  eyes 
nt  insanity, 
rhis  is  the 
ike,  mother. 

on  him  1 " 
nk  that  he, 
illow  of  his 
ess  to  avert 
1  him,  here 

nward  pas- 

vild  beast; 

sunk  deep 

for  me  to- 
racted  with 

I  shrieked, 
to  God  or 
at  his  feet, 
e,  Earl  De 
shing  back 
louse  !  for 
than  with 


35 


"  Mother,  nothing  is  gained  by  working  yourself  up  to 
such  a  pitch  of  passion  ;  you  only  beat  the  air  with  your 
breath.     I  nm  calm." 

"Yes  calm  as  a  volcano  on  the       -e  of  eruption,"  she 

said,  looking  in  his  gleaming  eyes  and  icy  smile. 

"And  I  am  submissive,  forbearing,  and  forgiving." 

"  Yes,  submissive    as  a    crouching    lion— forgiving  as  a 

tiger  robbed  of  its  young— forbearing  as  a  serpent  prcparine- 

to  spring."  i-       r    t-        & 

He  had  awed  her— even  her,  that  raving  maniac— into 
calm,  by  the  cold,  steely  glitter  of  his  dark  eyes ;  by  the 
quiet,  chilling  smile  on  his  lip.  In  that  fixed,  iron,  relentless 
look,  she  read  a  strong,  determined  purpose,  relentless  as 
death,  or  doom,  or  the  grave ;  terrific  in  its  very  quiet,  im- 
placable in  its  very  depth  of  calm,  overtopping  and  sur- 
mounting her  own. 

"  We  undei  ^tand  each  other,  I  think,"  he  said,  quietly. 
"  You  perceive,  mother,  how  utterly  idle  these  mad  threats 
and  curses  of  yours  are.  They  will  effect  nothing  but  to 
have  you  imprisoned  as  a  dangerous  lunatic;  and  it  is  neces- 
sary you  should  be  free  to  fulfill  my  last  bequest." 

Another  mood  had  come  over  the  dark,  fierce  woman 
while  he  spoke.  The  demoniac  look  of  passion  that  had 
hitherto  convulsed  her  face,  gave  way  to  one  of  despairing 
sorrow,  and  stretching  out  her  arms,  she  passionately  cried : 
"  Oh,  my  son  1  n.j  only  one  I  the  darling  of  my  old  age ! 
my  sole  earthly  pride  and  hope  1  Oh,  Reginald  I  would  to 
God  we  had  both  died  ere  we  had  lived  to  see  this  day  1  " 

It  was  the  very  agony  of  grief— the  last  passionate, 
despairing  cry  of  a  mother's  utmost  woe,  wrung  fiercely  from 
her  tortured  heart. 

"My  poor  mother— my  dear  mother  1"  said  the  youth 
with  tears  in  his  dark  eyes,  "  do  not  give  way  to  this  wild 
grief.     Who  knows  what  the  future  may  bring  forth  .?  " 

She  made  no  reply;  but  sat  with  both  arms  clasped  round 
her  knees— her  dry,  burning,  tearless  eyes  glaring  before  her 
on  vacancy. 

"  Do  not  despair,  mother ;  we  may  yet  meet  again.  Who 
knows  ? "  he  said,  musingly,  after  a  pause. 

She  turned  her  red,  inflnmpH  pvpKqMc  r>r.  v,;rr.  ;.,  ..^: i 

mquiry. 


»»M 


il-jf-     itMMU- 


'3±\^a 


36 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


M 


IMi 


"  There  are  such  things  as  breaking  chains  and  escapine. 
mother."  ^    ^' 

Still  that  lurid,  straining  gaze,  but  no  reply. 

«'  And  I,  if  it  be  in  the  power  of  man,  I  shall  escape— I 
shall  return,  and  then — " 

He  paused,  but  his  eyes  finished  the  sentence.  Lucifer, 
taking  his  last  look  of  heaven,  might  have  worn  just  such  a 
look— so  full  of  relentless  hate,  burning  revenge,  and  undy- 
ing defiance. 

"  You  may  come,  but  I  will  never  live  to  see  you,"  said 
the  gipsy,  in  a  voice  so  deep,  hollow  and  unnatural,  that  it 
seemed  issuing  from  a  tomb. 

"  You  will — you  must,  mother.  I  have  a  sacred  trust  to 
leave  you,  for  which  you  must  live,"  he  said  impetuously. 

"  A  trust,  my  son  ?  " 

"Yes.  One  that  will  demand  all  your  care  for  many 
years.  You  shall  hear  my  story,  mother.  I  would  not  trust 
any  living  being  but  you ;  but  I  can  confide  fearlessly  in 
you." 

"  You  have  only  to  name  your  wishes,  Reginald.  Though 
I  should  have  to  wade  through  blood  to  fulfill  them,  fear 
not." 

"Nothing  so  desperate  will  be  required,  mother.  The 
less  blood  you  have  on  your  hands  the  better.  My  advice 
to  you  is,  when  I  am  gone,  to  return  to  Yetholm,  and  wait 
with  patience  for  my  return— for  return  I  will,  in  spite  of 
everything. " 

Her  bloodshot  eyes  kindled  fiercely  with  invincible  deter- 
mination as  he  spoke,  but  she  said  nothing. 

"My  story  is  a  somewhat  long  one,"  he  said,  after  a  pause, 
during  which  a  sad  shadow  had  fallen  on  his  handsome  face  ; 
"  but  I  suppose  it  is  necessary  I  should  tell  you  all.  I 
thought  never  to  reveal  it  to  any  human  being ;  but  I  did 
not  dream  then  of  ever  being  a  convicted  felon,  as  I  am 
now." 

He  had  been  sitting  hitherto  with  his  head  resting  on  his 
hand ;  now  he  arose  and  began  pacing  to  and  fro  his  narrow 
cell,  while  the  dark,  stern  woman,  crouching  in  a  distant 
corner  like  a  dusky  shadow,  watched  him  with  her  eyes  of 
fire,  and  prepared  to  hsten. 


THE  CHII.D-WIFE. 


•  11 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE     CHILD-WIFE. 

••  Oh,  had  we  never,  never  met. 
Or  could  this  heart  e'en  now  forget, 
How  linked,  how  blessed  we  might  have  been, 
Had  fate  not  frowned  so  dark  between  !  " 

— Moore. 

"  Eight  years  ago,  mother,"  began  the  prisoner,  "  I  first 
entered  Eton.  Through  your  kindness,  I  was  provided  with 
money  enough  to  enable  me  to  mix  on  terms  of  equally  in 
all  things  with  the  highest  of  its  high-born  students.  No 
one  dreamed  I  was  a  gipsy  ;  they  would  as  soon  have  thought 
of  considering  themselves  one  as  me.  I  adopted  the  name 
of  Reginald  Germaine,  and  represented  myself  as  the  son  of 
an  exiled  French  count,  and  being  by  Nature  gifted  with  a 
tolerable  share  of  good  looks,  and  any  amount  of  cool  assur- 
ance, I  soon  worked  my  way  up  above  most  of  my  titled 
compeers,  and  became  ringleader  and  prime  favorite  with 
students  and  professors.  They  talk  of  good  blood  showing 
itself  equally  in  men  as  in  horses,  mother.  I  don't  know 
how  that  may  be,  but  certain  it  is  the  gipsy's  son  equaled 
all,  and  was  surpassed  by  none  in  college.  In  fencing, 
shooting,  riding,  boxing,  rowing,  I  was  as  much  at  home  as 
reading  Virgil  or  translating  Greek.  If  it  is  any  consolation 
to  you,  mother,  to  know  what  an  exceedingly  talented  son 
you  have,"  he  said,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  all  this  will  be  very 
consoling  to  you— more  especially  as  Latin,  and  Greek,  and 
all  the  rest  of  my  manifold  accomplishments  will  be  extremely 
necessary  to  me  among  my  fellow-convicts  in  Van  Dieman's 
Land.  It  is  very  probable  I  will  establish  an  infant  school 
for  young  thieves  and  pickpockets  when  the  day's  labor  is 
over.  I  wonder  if  our  kind,  fatherly,  far-seeing  British  gov- 
ernment dreams  whal-   an    inf>nl/-i,1nKlo    <-^^«o,.-«  *x,«— 

m  the  person  of  Germaine,  the  convicted  burglar  I  " 


M.-^ 


:aiwn 


38 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


His  bitter,  jeering  tone  was  terrible  to  hear;  but  the  dark 
burning  glare  o  his  fierce  eyes  was  more  terrible  still.  Oh' 
It  was  a  dreadful  fate  to  look  forward  to-a  chained,  manacled 
convict  for  ife~and  so  unjustly  condemned  I  With  his 
fierce,  g.psy  blood,  is  it  any  wonder  that  every  noble  and 
generous  feeling  in  his  breast  should  turn  to  gall  ? 

Ihe    dusky  form    crouching    in    the    corner  moved  not 

tTo'r'ec^^t  collf  "''"''  '^"  ^'^"'  ^"  '""^  ^^^^^  '^^e 
"  Well,  mother  I  was   boasting  of  my  cleverness  when  I 
interrupted   myself-was   I   not .? "  he  said,  after  a  nause 
during  which  he  had  been  pacing.  like  a  caged  iion,\,rand 
down      •'  It  IS  an  exciting  subject,  you  perceive  ;  and  if  I 
getahttle  incoherent  at  times,  you  must  only  pa.  s  it  over 
and  wait  until  I  come  to  the  point.     That  brief  lrJ>ose  o?  my 
standing  m  the  school  was  necessary,  after  all,  as  it  will  help 
to  show  the  sort  of  estimation  I  was  held  in.     When  the 
vacations  came,  numberless  were  the  invitations  I  received 
to  accompany  my  fellow-students  home.     Having  no  home 
of  my  own  to  go  to,  I  need  hardly  say  those  invitations  were 
mvanaWy  accepted.     How  the  good  people  who  so  lavbh  y 
bestowed  their  hospitality  upon  me  feel  now,  is  a  ques  ion 
not  very  hard  to   answer.     I  fancy  I  can  see  the  looks  of 
horror,  amazement  and  outraged  dignity  that  will  fill  some 
o.  those  aristocratic  mansions,  when  they  learn  that  the  dash- 
ing son  and  heir   of  the  exiled   Count  Germaine,  on  whom 
they  have  condescended  to  smile  so  benignly,  is  no  other 
than  the  convicted  gipsy  thief.     It  will  be  a  regular  farce  to 
witness,  mother."  ^ 

He  laughed,  but  the  grim,  shadowy  face  in  the  corner  was 
as  immovable  as  a  figure  in  stone. 

"Among  the  friends  I  made  at  Eton,"  he  went  on,  "there 
was  one-a  fi^ne,  princely-hearted  fellow  about  my  own  age 
---called  Lord  Everly.  He  was  my  'fag  '  for  a  time,  and, 
owing  to  a  similarity  of  tastes  and  dispositions,  we  were 
soon  inseparable  friends.  Wherever  one  was,  there  the 
otHer  was  sure  to  be,  until  we  were  nicknamed  '  Damon  and 
i-ythias  by  the  rest.  Of  course,  the  first  vacation  after  his 
coming,  I  received  a  pressing  invitation  to  accompany  him 
home;  and,  without  requiring  much  coaxing,  I  went." 
The   young   man  paused,   and  a   dark,  earnest   shadow 


n 


W. 

;  but  the  dark, 
rible  still.  Oh, 
lined,  manacled 
-dl  With  his 
'ery  noble  and 
gall  ? 

er  moved  not, 
e  darkness  like 

erness  when  I 
after  a  pause, 
d  lion,  up  and 
eive  ;  and  if  I 
y  pass  it  over, 
;f  expose  of  my 
as  it  will  help 
n.     When  the 
ons  I  received 
ving  no  home 
vitations  were 
ho  so  lavishly 
is  a  question 
the  looks  of 
will  fill  some 
that  the  dash- 
ine,  on  whom 
',  is   no  other 
gular  farce  to 

lie  corner  was 

nt  on,  "  there 
:  my  own  age 
■  a  time,  and, 
)ns,  we  were 
s,  there  the 
'  Damon  and 
tion  after  his 
:ompany  him 
went." 
lest   shadow 


THE  CHILD- WIFE. 


39 


agam 


resumed,  his 


passed  over  his  fine  face.     When 
voice  was  low  and  less  bitter. 

"  I  met  my  fate  there,  mother— the  star  of  my  destiny, 
that  rose,  for  a  few  brief,  fleeting  moments,  and  then  set 
forever  for  me.     I  was  a  hot-blooded,  hot-headed,  hotter- 
hearted  boy  of  nineteen  then,  who  followed  the  impulse  of 
his  own  headstrong  passions  wherever  they  chose  to  lead, 
without  ever  stopping  to  think.     At  Everly  Hall  I  met  the 
cousm  of  my  friend— one  of  the  most  perfectly  beautiful 
creatures  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  see.     Only  fourteen 
years  of  age,  she  was  so  well-grown,  and  so  superbly-propor- 
tioned, as  to  be,  in  looks,  already  a  woman ;  and  a  woman's 
heart  she  already  possessed.     Her  name,  mother,  it  is  not  nec- 
essary to  tell  now.     Suffice  it  to  say,  that  name  was  one  of 
the  proudest  of  England's  proud  sons,  and  her  family  one  of 
the  highest  and   noblest  in  the  land.     She  was  at   Everly 
Hall,  spending  her  vacation,  too,  and  daily  we  were  thrown  to- 
gether.    I  had  never  loved  before— never  felt  even  those  first 
moonlight-on-water  affairs  that  most  young  men  rave  about. 
My  nature  is  not  one  of  those  that  love  lightly ;  but  it  was 
as  resistless,  as  impetuous,  as  fierce  and  consuming  as  a  vol- 
cano's fire,  when  it  came.     Mother,  I  did  not  love  that  beau- 
tiful child-woman.     Love  I     Pshaw  I  that  is  a  cold  word  to 
express  what  I  felt— every  moonstruck  youth  prates  about 
his  love.     No ;  I  adored,  I  worshipped,  I  idolized  her ;  the 
remembrance   of  who  I  was,  of  who  she  was— all  were  as 
walls  of  smoke  before  the  impetuosity  of  that  first  consum- 
ing passion.     The   Everlys   never   dreamed— never,  in  the 
remotest  degree,  fancied— I,  the  son  of  an  exiled  count,  could 
dare  to  lift  my  eyes  to  one  whom  a  prince  of  the  blood-royal 
might  almost  have  wed  without  stooping.     They  had  confi- 
dence in  her,  the  proud  daughter  cf  a  proud  race,  to  think 
she  would  spurn  me  from  her  in  contempt,  did  I  dare  to 
breathe  my  wild  passion.     But  how  litde,  in  their  cool,  clear- 
headed calculations,  did  they  dream  that  social  position  and 
worldly  considerations  were  as  a  cobweb  barrier  before  the 
impetuosity  of  first  love  1 

"  And  so,  secure  in  the  difference  between  us  in  rank,  the 
Everlys  permitted  their  beautiful  niece  to  ride,  walk,  dance 
and  drive  with  the  gay,  agreeable  son  of  the  exiled  Count 
Germaine.     Oh  !  those  long,  breezy  morning  rides,  over  the 


:^ivn 


40 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


sloping  hills  and  wide  lawns  that  environed  the  home  of  the 
H-verlys  !  I  can  see  her  now,  as  side  by  side  we  rode  home- 
ward-Idnnking  in,  until  every  sense  was  intoxicated,  the 
bevv.ldenng  draught  of  her  beauty,  as  she  sat  on  her  oa" 
black  pony,  her  dark  riding-habit  fluttering  in  the  morning 
bree^e;  her  cheek  flushed  with  health  and  happiness  Te? 
brdl.ant  eyes    more  glorious  to  me  than  all  the   sta  s  in 

sunlight        O       those  long,  moonlight  strolls,  arm-in-arm 
through  the  wilderness  of  roses,  not  half  so  beiutiful  as    "e' 

r^rdensYtirtr'^^  "^'r^'  ^^  wim  luxurrancV  •: 

tne  gardens  1  Oh!  those  enchanting  evenings,  when,  en- 
circled by  my  arm,  we  kept  time  together  to^he  delh^ious 
music  of  the  voluptuous  waltz.     Then  it  was,  there  It  was 

of"  tSrn^ri:^'  ^^°^'  ^"^  '"^^  ''^  ^^^^-^-  ^-^^t^^ 
-  For  mother,  even  as  I  loved  her  she  loved  me.  No 
not  as  I  oved  her-it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  do  that  but 
with  all  the  passionate  ardor  of  a  f^rst,  strong  passion.  I 
had  ong  known  I  was  not  indifferent  to  her  ;  buf  when  one 
night,  as  I  stood  bending  over  her  as  she  sLt  at  the  piano 
and  heard  her  stately  lady-aunt  whisper  to  a  friend  thaHn  a 
few  more  years,  her  'lovely  and  accomplished  niece  '  would 
become  the  bride  of  Lord  Ernest  VilliLs,  only  son  of  Earl 

S^Mn"'"^'  l'^"'  ^"^  ^^^'''''  restrained  me  from  telling 
that  ove  was  forgotten.  I  saw  her  start,  and  turn  pale  a! 
she  too,  heard  and  caught  the  quick,  anxious  glances  she 
cas  at  me.  All  I  felt  at  that  moment  must  hfve  been  re' 
vealed  in  my  face  for  her  eyes  fell  beneath  mine,  and  the 
hot  blood  mounted  to  her  very  brow. 

"  '  And  you  are  engaged  to  another  ? '  I  said,  in  a  tone 
of  passionate  reproach.     '  Oh,  why  did  I  not  kno^  this  ? ' 

It  is  no  engagement  of  my  making,'  she  said,  in  a  low 
trembling  voice  '  I  never  saw  Lord  Villiers,  nir  he  me' 
Our  fathers  wish  we  should  marry,  that  is  all  ' 

;| ;  And  will  you  obey  ? '  I  said,  in  a  thrilling  whisper. 
No,'  she  said,  impulsively ;  « never.' 
.1i"tT^^1?vu  ^^^  accompanied  the  words  made  me  forget 
IvL^f  ^         °  '*"''^"  ^"^  remember.     In  an  instant  I  was 
at  her  feet,  pouring  out  my  wild  tale  of  nassion  •  in  .r.^,u^. 
sne  was  m  my  arms,  whispering  the  words  that  made  me  the 


•"""•••' ririniiiiiiliiil 


le  home  of  the 
we  rode  home- 
titoxicated,  the 
it   on  her  coal- 
n  the  morning 
appiness  ;  her 
the   stars  in 
k  the  radiant 
s,  arm-in-arm, 
;autiful  as  the 
luxuriance   in 
IS,   when,  en- 
the  deHcious 
there  it  was, 
)orn  daughter 

ed  me.     No, 

)  do  that,  but 

:  passion.     I 

>ut  when,  one 

at  the  piano, 

ind  that,  in  a 

niece  '  would 

son  of  Earl 

from  telling 

turn  pale  as 

glances  she 

lave  been  re- 

ine,  and  the 

id,  in  a  tone 
ow  this  ? ' 
id,  in  a  low, 
nor  he  me. 

r^hisper. 

e  me  forget 
istant  I  was 

in   annfJ-iof 
""  - ••••^) 

aade  me  the 


THE  CHILD- WIFE. 


41 


happiest  man  on  earth.  It  was  well  for  us  both  the  room 
was  nearly  deserted,  and  the  corner  where  we  were  in  deepest 
shadow,  or  the  ecstasies  into  which,  like  all  lovers,  we  went, 
would  have  led  to  somewhat  unpleasant  consequences.  But 
our  destinies  had  decreed  we  should,  for  the  time,  have 
things  all  our  own  way ;  and  that  Might,  wandering  in  the 
pale,  solemn  moonlight,  I  urged,  with  all  the  eloquence  of  a 
first,  resistless  passion,  a  secret  marriage.  I  spoke  of  her 
father's  compelling  us  to  part  ;  of  his  insisting  on  her  mar- 
riage with  one  whom  she  could  not  love ;  I  drew  a  touching 
description  of  myself,  devoted  to  a  life  of  solitude  and  misery, 
and  probably  ending  by  committing  suicide— which  melan- 
choly picture  so  worked  upon  her  fears,  that  I  verily  believe 
she  would  have  fled  with  me  to  New  South  Wales,  had  I 
asked  it.  And  so  I  pleaded,  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  passion 
that  was  as  strong  and  uncontrollable  as  it  was  selfish  and 
exacting,  until  she  promised,  the  following  night,  to  steal 
secretly  out  and  fly  with  me  to  where  I  was  to  have  a  clergy- 
man in  waiting,  and  then  and  there  become  my  wife." 

Once  more  he  paused,  and  his  fine  eyes  were  full  of  bitter 
self-reproach  now. 

"  Mother,  that  was  the  turning-point  in  my  destiny.  Look- 
ing back  to  that  time  now,  I  can  wish  I  had  been  struck 
dead  sooner  than  have  hurried,  as  I  did,  that  impulsive, 
warm-hearted  girl  into  that  fatal  marriage.  T/ie;i,  in  all  the 
burning  ardor  of  youth,  I  thought  of  nothing  but  the  intoxi- 
cating happiness  within  my  grasp ;  and  had  an  angel  from 
heaven  pleaded  for  the  postponement  of  my  designs,  I  would 
have  hurled  a  refusal  back  in  his  face.  I  thought  only  of 
the  present— of  the  joy,  too  intense,  almost,  to  be  borne— 
and  I  steadily  shut  my  eyes  to  the  future.  I  knew  she 
would  loathe,  hate,  and  despise  me,  if  she  ever  discovered— 
as  discover  she  must  some  day— how  I  had  deceived  her ; 
for,  with  all  her  love  for  me,  she  inherited  the  pride  and 
haughtiness  of  her  noble  house  uncontaminated.  Had  she 
known  who  I  really  was,  I  know  she  would  have  considered 
me  unworthy  to  touch  even  the  hem  of  her  garment. 

"All  that  day  she  remained  in  her  room;  while  I  rode  off 
to  a  neighboring  town  to  engage  a  clergyman  to  unite  us  at 
the  appointed  hour.  Midnight  found  me  waiting,  at  the 
trysting-place ;  and  true  to  the  hour,  my  beautiful  bride. 


MMW^Jgwasfsg^^llll 


:^ivn 


42 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I 


brave  in  the  strength  of  her  love  and  woman's  faith  in  mv 
honor,  met  me  there,  alone;  for  I  would  have  no  attendants 
to  share  our  confidence. 

"  Two  horses  stood  waiting.  I  lifted  her  into  the  saddle 
sprung  upon  my  own  horse ;  and  away  we  dashed,  at  a 
break-neck  pace,  to  consummate  our  own  future  miserv 
1  here  was  no  time  for  words ;  but  I  strove  to  whisper  of 
the  happy  days  in  store  for  us,  as  we  rode  along.  She  did 
not  utter  a  word;  but  her  face  was  whiter  than  that  of  the 
dead  when  I  lifted  her  from  the  saddle  and  drew  her  with 
me  into  the  church. 

''  The  great  aisles  were  dimly  lighted  by  one  solitary  lamp, 
and  by  its  light  we  beheld  the  clergyman,  standing,  in  full 
canonicals,  to  sanction  our  mad  marriage.  Robed  in  a 
dark  flowing  dress,  with  her  white  face  looking  out  from 
Jier  damp,  flowing,  midnight  hair  I  can  see  her  before  me 
as  slie  stood  there,  shivering  at  intervals  with  a  strange 
presaging  of  future  evil.  ^ 

''It  was  an  ominous  bridal,  mother  ;  for,  as  the  last  words 
died  away,  and  we  were  pronounced  man  and  wife,  the  harsh, 
dreadful  croak  of  a  raven  resounded  through  the  vast,  dim 
church,  and  the  ghostly  bird  of  omen  fluttered  for  a  moment 
over  our  heads,  and  fell  dead  at  our  feet.     Excited  by  the 

V^JZT?n  '^  u  '\^  'T  ^''•"S  ^'^°"g  5  the  solemn,  un- 
lighted  old  church ;  the  dread,  mystic  hour-all  proved  too 
much  for  my  little  child-wife,  and  with  a  piercing  shriek,  she 
fell  fainting  in  my  arms.  Mother,  the  unutterable  reproach 
of  that  wild    agonizing   cry   will    haunt   me    to   my   dying 

No  words  can  describe  the  bitterness  of  his  tone,  the  un- 
^;^i'^u"'^P5°^^^  t^^^t  filled  his  dark  eyes,  as  he  spoke. 

We  bore  her  to  the  vestry;  but  it  was  long  before  she 
revived,  and  longer  still  before,  with  all  the  seductive  elo- 

"^""."^u    TF''''''rf^^  ^°'^^'  ^  ^°"^^  ^o°the  her  into  quiet. 

Uh   Reginald,  I  have  done  wrong! '  washer  sorrowful 
remorseful  cry  to  all  I  could  say. 

"  ^^  P^^?  !'^^  clergyman,  and  rode  home— the  gipsy  youth 
and  the  high  born  lady,  united  for  life  now  by  the  my/terious 
tie  of  marriage.  Now  that  the  last,  desperate  step  was 
taken,  even  I  grew  for  a  moment  appalled  at  what  I  had 
uone.     Lut  I  did  not  repent     No ;  had  it  been  again  to  do 


U4 


m 


w. 

n's  faith  in  rny 
e  no  attendants 

into  the  saddle, 
;  dashed,  at  a 
future  misery, 
to  whisper  of 
long.  She  did 
lan  t!iat  of  the 
drew  her  with 

;  soHtary  hinip, 
anding,  in  full 
Robed  in  a 
king  out  from 
ler  before  me, 
nth.  a  strange 

the  last  words 
/ife,  the  harsh, 
the  vast,  dim 
for  a  moment 
Ixcited  by  the 
e  solemn,  un- 
all  proved  too 
ng  shriek,  she 
able  reproach 
to   my    dying 

tone,  the  un- 
i  he  spoke, 
ig  before  she 
seductive  elo- 
nto  quiet, 
ler  sorrowful, 

le  gipsy  youth 
le  mysterious 
ate  step  was 
t  what  I  had 
1  again  to  do 


THE  CHILD- WIFE. 


43 


i 


% 


I  would  have 


I  would  have  done  it  over  a  thousand  times, 
lost  heaven  sooner  than  her  I 

"  Three  weeks  longer  we  continued  inmates  of  Everly  Hall  • 
and  no  one  ever  suspected  that  we  met  other  than  as  casual 
acquamtances.  Looking  back  now  on  my  past  life,  those 
are  the  only  days  of  unalloyed  sunshine  I  can  remember  in 
the  whole  course  of  my  life  ;  and  she— she,  too,  closed  her 
eyes  to   the  future,  and  was  for  the  time  being  perfectly 

"  But  the  time  came  when  we  were  forced  to  part.  She 
went  back  to  school,  while  I  returned  to  London  I  met 
her  frequently,  at  first ;  hv*  her  father,  after  a  time,  began  to 
think,  perhaps,  that,  for  the  son  of  an  exiled  count,  I  was 
makmg  too  rapid  progress  in  his  daughter's  affections,  and 
peremptorily  ordered  her  to  discontinue  the  acquaintance. 
But  she  loved  me  well  enough  to  disobey  him  ;  and  though 
I  saw  she  looked  forward  with  undisguised  terror  to  the 
time  when  the  revelation  of  our  marriage  would  be  made 
we  still  continued  to  meet  at  long  intervals. 

"So  a  year  passed.  One  day,  wishing  to  consult  her 
about  something— I  forget  what— we  met  at  an  appointed 
trysting  place.  She  entered  the  light  chaise  I  had  brought 
with  me,  and  we  drove  off.  The  horses  were  half  tamed 
things  at  best,  and  in  the  outskirts  of  a  little  village,  several 
miles  from  the  academy,  they  took  fright  at  something,  and 
started  off  like  the  wind.  I  strove  in  vain  to  check  them 
On  they  flew,  like  lightning,  until  suddenly  coming  in  con- 
tact with  a  garden-fence,  the  chaise  was  overthrown,  and  we 
were  both  flung  violently  out. 

''I  heard  a  faint  cry  from  my  companion,  and,  unheeding 
a  broken  arm,  which  was  my  share  of  the  accident  I  man- 
aged to  raise  her  from  the  ground,  where  she  lay  senseless, 
and  bear  her  into  the  cottage.  Fortunately,  the  cotta-e  was 
owned  by  an  old  widow,  to  whom  I  had  once  rendered  some 
slight  service  which  secured  her  everlasting  gratitude  ;  and 
more  fortunately  still,  my  companion  had  received  no  injury 
from  her  fall,  beyond  a  slight  wound  in  the  head. 

"  Leaving  her  in  the  care  of  the  old  woman,  I  went  to  the 
nearest  surgeon,  had  my  wounds  dressed,  and  my  horses 
disposea  oi  unLii  such  times  as  we  could  resume  our'journey. 
Ihen  I  returned  to  the  cottage;  but  found  to  my  great 


»Sfi~ir^~Effir 


;ai.iwflu: 


44 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


ei 


lr.':i 


*1 


alarm  that  my  wife,  during  my  absence,  had  become 
seriously  ill,  and  was  raving  in  the  wild  delirium  of  a  burn- 
mg  fever. 

"  There  was  no  doctor  in  the  village  whose  skill  I  could 
trust  where  her  life  was  concerned  ;  and,  half-mad  with  ter- 
ror  and  alarm,  I  sprung  on  horseback,  and  rode  off  to  Lon- 
don for  medical  aid.  But  with  all  my  haste,  nearly  twelve 
hours  elapsed  before  I  could  return  accompanied  by  a  skill- 
ful though  obscure  physician,  chosen  by  me  because  he  was 
obscure,  and  never  likely  to  meet  her  acrain 

"As  I  entered,  the  feeble  wail  of  an^inf  ant  struck  on  nw 
ear ;  and  the  first  object  on  which  my  eyes  rested  as  I  went 
in,  was  the  old  woman  sitting  with  a  babe  in  her  arms,  while 
the  child-mother  lay  still  unconscious,  as  I  had  left  her 

"  Mother,  what  I  felt  at  that  moment  words  can  never  dis- 
close.  Discovery  now  seemed  inevitable.  She  must  wake 
to  the  knowledge  that  he  for  whom  she  had  given  up  everv- 
thing  was  a  gipsy;  that  her  child  bore  in  its  veins  the 
tainted  gipsy  blood.  Disowned  and  despised  by  all  her 
high-born  friends,  she  would  hate  me  for  the  irretrievable 
wrong  I  had  done  her ;  and  to  lose  her  was  worse  than  death 
to  me.  "v-im 

"  The  intense  anguish  and  remorse  ^  endured  at  that  mo- 
ment, might  have  atoned  for  a  darker  crime  than  mine  I 
had  never  felt  so  fully,  before,  the  wrong  I  had  done  her- 
and  with  the  knowledge  of  its  full  enormity,  came  the  resolul 
tion  of  making  all  the  atonement  in  my  power. 

"  The  doctor  had  pronounced  her  illness   severe,  but  not 
dangerous  ;  and  said  that  with  careful  nursing  she  would 
soon  be  restored  to  health.     When  he  was  gone,  I  turned  to 
the  old  woman,  and  inquired  if  she  was  willing  to  undertake 
the  care  of  the  child.     The  promise  of  being  well  pa^d  made 
her  readily  answer  in  the  affirmative  ;  and  then  we  concluded 
a  bargain  that  she  was  to  take  care  of  the  infant,  and  keen 
Its  existence  a  secret  from  every  one,  and,  above  all,  from 
Its  mother.     For  I  knew  that  she  would  never  consent  to 
give  It  up   and  I  was  resolved  that  it  should  not  be  the 
means  of  dragging  her  down  to  poverty  and  disgrace      The 
woman  was  to  keep  it  out  of  her  sight  while  she  remained 
and  tell  her  it  had  died,  should  she  makp  any  inq-i-"-'- 

"  During  the  next  week,  I  scarcely  ever  left  the'cottage- 


THE  CHII,D-WIFE.  45 

and  when  she  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  use  a  pen,  she 
wrote  a  few  lines  to  the  principal  of  the  academy,  saying  she 
had  gone  to  visit  a  friend,  and  would  not  return  for  a  fort- 
night, at  len?n  As  she  had  ever  been  a  petted  child,  ac- 
customed to  40  and  come  unquestioned,  her  absence  excited 
no  surprisf;  or  suspicion ;  and  secreted  in  the  cottage,  she 
remained  for  the  next  two  week?  How  the  old  woman 
managed  to  conceal  the  child  I  know  not ;  but  certain  it  is, 
she  did  it. 

"  The  time  I  had  dreaded  came  at  last.  My  better  nature 
had  awoke  since  the  birth  of  my  child ;  and  I  resolved  to 
tell  her  all,  cost  what  it  might,  and  set  her  free.  Mother, 
you  can  conceive  the  bitter  humiliation  such  a  confession 
must  have  been  to  me— yet  I  made  it.  I  told  her  all;  how 
basely  I  had  deceived  her ;  how  deeply  I  had  wronged  her. 
In  that  moment,  ev^ry  spark  of  love  she  had  ever  felt  for 
me  was  quenched  forever  in  her  majestic  indignation,  her 
scorn,  and  utter  contempt.  Silently  she  arose  and  confronted 
me,  white  as  the  dead,  superb  in  her  withering  scorn,  as  far 
above  me  as  the  heavens  from  the  earth.  All  the  pride  of 
her  proud  race  swelled  in  her  breast,  in  a  loathing  too  deep 
and  intense  for  words.  But  those  steady,  darkening 
eyes,  that  seemed  scintillating  sparks  of  iire,  I  will  neve? 
forget. 

" '  Here  we  must  part,  then,  Reginald  Germaine ;  and  on 
this  earth  we  must  never  meet  again  1 '  she  said,  in  a  voice 
steady  from  its  very  depth  of  scorn.  '  Of  the  matchless 
wrong  you  have  done  me,  I  will  not  speak ;  it  is  too  late  for 
that  now.  If  one  spark  of  the  honor  you  once  professed 
still  lingers  in  your  breast,  be  silent  as  regards  the  past.  I 
ask  no  more.  You  have  forever  blighted  my  life ;  but  the 
world  need  never  know  what  we  once  were  to  each  oth«-. 
If  money  is  any  object  '—and  her  beautiful  lip  curled  with  a 
contempt  too  intense  for  words — '  you  shall  have  half  my 
wealth — the  whole  of  it,  if  you  will— if  it  only  buys  your 
silence.  I  will  return  to  school,  and  try  to  forget  the  unut- 
terable degradation  into  which  I  have  sunk.  You  go  your 
own  wa -,  and  we  are  strangers  from  henceforth  1 ' 

"  Mother  1  mother  I  such  was  our  parting ;  in  scorn  and 
hatred  on  one  side  ;  in  utter  despair  and  undvin"-  remorse 
on  the  other.     That  day  she  returned  to  school  ;''l  fled,\o 


wi*»>»ji 


~Bm£r%rs:~rmj 


■m  vn 


■ 


46 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


drown  thought  in  the  maddening  whirl   and  tumult  of  Lon- 
don ;  and  we  have  never  met  since.      She  is   unmarried  stiH 
and  the  re.gnmg  belle  of  every  gilded  salon  in  London  -bt' 
I  knovv  she  never  will,  never  can.  forget  the  abyss  of  humili 
tion  into  which  I  dragged  her  dow.i.      For  her  sake  to  in- 
sure her  happiness,  I  would  willingly  end  this  wretched  ex- 
istence, but  that  I  must  live  for  what  is  so  dear  to  the  cipsv 
heart-revenge       With  all  her  lofty  pride,  what  she  will  f^ee^ 
in  knowing  she  is  the  wife  of  a  convicted  felon  God  an  1  hpr 
own  heart  alone  will  ever  know."  ^^^ 

He  threw  himself  into  a  seat,  and  shading  his  face  witL 
his  hands,  sat  silent;  but  the  convulsive  heav  ng  of  s 
strong  chest,  his  short,  hard  breathing,  told,  more  than 
words  could  ever  do,  what  he  felt  at  that  moment  And  tiH 
the  dusky  shadow  in  the  duskier  corner  sat  silently  glaring 
upon  him  with  those  red,  lurid  eyes  of  flame  ^      ^ 

"To  tell  you  this  story,  to  commit  my  child  to  your  charee 
I  wished  to  see  you  to-night,  mother,"  he  said   at  las?  wifh 
out  looking  up      ;<  She  does  not  dream  of  its  tistence       he' 
was  told  It  died  the  hour  of  its  birth,  and  was  buried  ^hile 
she  was  still  unconscious.     In  this  pocketbook  you  will  find 

Xrt'Zl'Z'r''''' ''''''  ^^^P^'^'  t-"  her  the  count 
—tor  a'^  such  she  knows  me— sent  you  for  it      Take  it  v.itu 

you    to  Yetholm,   mother;    try  to 'think    it"  is    your    Ton 
n^ert'm^ofe'' ^^"  '''  "^'''-''^  ^^^^^  uUyoumTy' 

sp'c;"aUyeTKt  ^''  '"   '^^''  '"^"^"^  ^^^  «^   ^hose 

hpl?^°^!i^ V  ^?"  """'^  ^"^"^^  "'^  "°^'"  he  said,  lifting  his 
head  and  looking  sorrowfully  in  her  rigi."   haggard  face 
'for  the  few  hours  that  are  left  me,  I  would  like  ^o  be  alone' 
It  IS  better  for  us  both  that  we  part  now  " 

"I   will   not  go  1  "  said  a  voice  so  hollow,  so  unnatural 
1        T  T^u  '^  '''"'  ^•'^"^  ^he  jaws  of  death.     'Tw  11  not 
rom  youtw.'- ^^"  ^"'  ''''''  ^"^  ^°^  ^--^^'  ^o  tear  m" 

"  Mother,  it  is  my  wish,"  he  said,  calmly 

"  Yours,  Reginald  ?  "  she  cried,  in  a  voice  of  unutterable 
reproach.  "  You  wish  that  I  should  leave  you  ?  For  fifteen 
years  I  have  given  you  up,  and  in  one  short  hour  you  tTre 
of  me  now.     Oh.  Re-  nnlrl   ^^  .... !  __  ,  „         ^^^  "^^ 


:ilUi 


1,  my  son  I  my  son  1 


THE  CHILD- WIFE. 


It  of  Lon- 
rried  still, 
iclon  ;  but 
'f  humilia- 
ike,  to  in- 
itched  ex- 
the  gipsy 
2  will  feel 
d  and  her 

face  with 
?  of  h's 
ore  than 
And  still 
y  glaring 

r  charge, 
ist,  with- 
ice;  she 
ed  while 
will  find 
le  count 
;  it  with 
ur  son, 
^ou  may 

f  those 

ing  his 
i  face  ; 
i  alone. 

latural, 
A'ill  not 
ear  me 


terable 

fifteen 

ou  tire 


47 


No  words  can  describe  the  piercing  anguish,  the  utter 
woe,  that  rived  that  wild  cry  up  from  her  tortured  heart. 

He  came  over,  and  laid  his  small,  delicate  hand  on  hers, 
hard,  coarse,  and  black  with  sun,  wind  and  toil. 

«  Listen  to  me,  my  mother !  "  And  his  low,  calm,  soothing 
tones  were  m  strong  contrast  to  her  impassioned  voice.  "  I 
am  not  ti.ed  of  you— you  wrong  me  by  thinking  so ;  but  I 
have  letters  to  write,  and  many  matters  to  arrange  before  to- 
morrow's sun  rises.  I  am  tired,  too,  and  want  ^r  rest ;  for 
It  IS  a  long  time  oince  sleep  has  visited  my  eyes,  mother." 

"  Sleep,"  she  bitterly  echoed  ;  "  and  whe.   do  you  think  I 
have  slept.     Look  at  these  sunken  eyes,  this  ghastly  face 
this  haggard  form,  and  ask  when  I  have  slept.     Think  of 
the  mighty  wrong  I  have  suffered,  and  ask  when  I  shall  sleep 
again."  ^ 

"  My  poor,  unhappy  mother  I  " 

"  Ife  can  sleep,"  she  broke  out,  with  a  low,  wild  lauglV.^ 
"  Oh,  yes  I  in  his  bed  of  down,  with  his  princely  son  mider 
the  same  roof,  with  menials  to  come  at  his  beck,  he  can 
sleep.  Yes,  he  sleeps  now  I  but  the  hour  comes  when  that 
sleep  shall  last  forever  I  Then  my  eyes  may  close,  but  never 
before  I " 

"You  are  delirious,  mother;  this  blow  has  turned  your 
brain."  ^ 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  her  tall,  gaunt  form  looming  up  in 
the  shadowy  darkness;  her  wild  black  hair  streaming  di- 
sheveled down  her  back  ;  her  fierce  eyes  blazing  with  de- 
moniacal light,  one  long,  be  ly  arm  raised  and  pointing  to 
heaven.  Dark,  fierce  and  stern,  she  looked  like  some 
dread  priestess  of  doom,  invoking  the  wrath  of  Heaven  on 
the  world. 

"  Delirious,  am  I  ?"  she  said,  in  her  deep,  bell-like  tones, 
that  echoed  strangely  in  the  silent  cell.  "  If  undying  hate 
if  unresting  vengeance,  if  revenge  that  will  never  be  satiated 
but  by  his  misery,  be  delirium,  then  I  am  mad.  I  leave  you 
now,  Reginald,  since  such  is  your  command ;  and  remember, 
when  far  away,  you  leave  one  behind  you  who  will  wreak 
fearful  vengeance  for  all  we  have  both  suffered." 

"  Mother,  Lord  De  Courcy  is  not  so  much  to  blame  a'ter 

all,  since  he  be'ie"e«i  r>">"  ^vi, ;]«■•.»      t  -,~. a.  -i i  • 

,  ^j-iivv.  -ic  uc;-.c.c.>>  !...,  ^v,ii..jr.     i  am  liut  ulurnica  Dy  your 


itf«iir~i.  JK.  iivui 


;aiva 


48 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


'3 


M 


wild  threats ;  for  I  know,  in  the  course  of  time,  this  mad 
hate  will  grow  less." 

"  Never— never  I  "  she  fiercely  hissed  through  her  clenched 
teeth.  "  May  God  forget  me  if  I  ever  forget  my  vow  I  Re- 
ginald, if  I  thought  that  rnan  could  go  to  heaven,  and  I  by 
some  impossibility  could  be  saved,  too,  I  would  take  a  dagger 
and  send  my  soul  to  perdition,  sooner  than  go  there  with 
him." 

Upturned  in  the  red  light  of  the  lamp,  her  face,  as  she 
spoke,  was  the  face  of  a  demon. 

"  Strong  hate,  stronger  than  death  !  "  he  said,  half  to  him- 
self, as  he  gazed  on  that  fiendish  face.  "  Farewell,  then, 
mother.     Will  you  fulfill  my  last  request  ?  " 

"  About  your  child  i* — yes." 

"  Thank  you,  dearest  mother.  If  so  lost  a  wretch  as  I 
am  dare  invoke  Heaven,  I  would  ask  its  blessings  on  you." 

"Ask  no  blessing  for  me  I"  she  fiercely  broke  in.  «' I 
would  hurl  it  back  in  the  face  of  the  angels,  did  they  offer 

Folding  her  mantle  around  her,  she  knotted  the  handker- 
chief, that  had  fallen  off,  under  her  chin,  and  stood  ready  to 
depart.  The  young  man  went  to  the  door,  and  knocked 
loudly.  A  moment  after,  the  tramp  of  heavy  feet  was  heard 
in  the  corridor  approaching  the  door. 

"It  is  the  jailer  to  let  you  out.  Once  more,  good-by, 
mother." 

She  was  hard,  and  stern,  and  rigid  now ;  and  there  were 
no  tears  in  her  dry,  stony,  burning  eyes,  as  she  turned  to 
take  a  last  farewell  of  the  son  she  idolized — the  son  she 
might  never  see  again.  His  eyes  were  dim,  but  her  tears 
were  turned  to  sparks  of  fire. 

Without  a  word  she  pressed  one  hot,  burning  kiss  on  his 
handsome  brow ;  and  then  the  door  opened,  and  she  flitted 
out  in  the  darkness  like  an  evil  shadow.  The  heavy  door 
again  swung  to  ;  the  key  turned  in  the  lock ;  the  son  was 
alone  in  his  condemned  cell ;  and  the  maniac  mother,  out 
once  more  in  the  beating  rain  and  chill  night  wind,  was  lost 
in  the  great  wilderness  of  mighty  London. 


THE  MOTHER'S  DESPAIR. 


49 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE    mother's    despair. 


*'  Go,  when  the  hunter's  hand  hath  wrung 
I'^roni  forest-cave  her  shrieking  young, 
And  calm  the  lonely  lioness — 
But  soothe  not,  mock  not,  my  distress." 

— Byron. 

AwAV  through  the  driving  storm — through  the  deepening 
darkness  of  coming  morn — through  the  long,  bleak,  gusty 
streets — through  alleys,  and  courts,  and  lanes ;  whirled  on 
like  a  leaf  in  the  blast  that  knows  not,  cares  not,  whither  it 
goes,  sped  the  gipsy  queen  Ketura.  There  were  not  many 
abroad  at  that  hour ;  but  those  she  passed  paused  in  terror, 
and  gazed  after  the  towering  form,  with  the  wild  face  and 
wilder  eyes,  that  flew  past  like  a  lost  soul  returning  to  Hades. 
She  stood  on  London  bridge,  and,  leaning  over,  looked  down 
on  the  black,  sluggish  waters  beneath,  ^any  lights  were 
twinkling  here  and  there  upon  the  numerous  barges  rising 
and  falling  heavily  on  the  long,  lazy  swell,  but  the  river  else- 
where lay  wrapped  in  the  blackness  of  Tartarus.  One 
plunge,  she  thought,  as  she  looked  over,  and  all  this  gnaw- 
ing misery  that  seems  eating  her  very  vitals  might  '  ended 
forever.  One  hand  was  laid  on  the  rail — the  nex  ioment 
she  might  have  been  in  eternity ;  but  with  the  rebound  of  a 
roused  tigress  she  sprung  back  Was  it  the  thought  of 
standing  before  the  judgmf>  at  .  God  with  all  her  crime 
on  her  soul — of  the  long  eiciiuty  of  misery  that  must  follow 
— that  appalled  her?  No,  she  would  have  laughed  in  scorij 
at  these,  but  the  remembrance  of  her  vow,  of  her  oath  of 
vengeance,  restrained  her. 

"  No  ;  I  will  live  till  I  have  wrung  from  his  heart  a  tithe 
of  the  misery  mine  has  felt,"  she  thought ;  and  then  a  dark, 
lowering  glance  on  the  black,  troubled  waters  below  filled  up 
the  hiatus. 

Dusky  forms,  like  shadows  from  the  grave,  were  fii^t'ngto 
and  fro,  brushing  past  her  as  they  went.     R'^ilessly  they 


!.Mtmsm 


50 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i 


Ifri 


flew  on,  as  if  under  the  friendly  mantle  of  darkness  alone 
they  dared  leave  their  dens.  She  knew  who  they  were-the 
scum  the  offcasts,  the  street-walkers  of  London  ;  and  she 

faces  that  gleamed  for  an  instant  in  the  light  of  the  lamp 
and    hen  were  gone,  if  any  of  them    had   ever   felt   anguth 

orm  in' li'i .  T'^"  "^''  ''°°^  "'"^^^'"^  the  parapet,  a  female 
form  in  hght,  flowing  garments,  was  borne  on,  as  if  by  the 
n.gh    wind,  and  stood  gazing  down  into  the  gloomy  waters 

f.r^  h  ;-f  ?"^„«r^"?gl''^P«eshecaughtof  a  pafe  yom.g 
face,  beautifust.ll,  despite  its  look  of  unutterable  woe  ;  and 
then  with  a  light  rustle,  something  went  down,  far  down 
nto  the  waves  beneath.  There  was  a  sullen  plunge  and 
the  gipsy  queen  leaned  over  to  see.  By  the  light  of  one  of 
the  barge  lamps  she  saw  a  darker  shadow  rise  through  the 
darkness  to  the  surface.  For  an  instant  that  whitf,  wiJd 
face  glared  above  the  black  bosom  of  the  Thames,  and  tTen 

seTZeTl    r"'.  '  '"^  '"''''  "  ^^^^'  ^^"^^  smile,'terrible  to 
see,  the  daik,  dread  woman  turned  away 

Away,  again,  through  the  labyrinth  of  the  citv  leaving, 
that  "  Bridge  of  Sighs  "  far  behind-away  from  'the  d^k 
dens  and  filthy  purlieus  to  the  wider  and  m^ore  flmonab  e 

rS  t\"  'T'  f '^  ^'^  ^^P^y  ^"^^"      There  could  be  no 
rest  for  her  this  last  sorrowful  night ;  as  if  pursued  bv  a 

haunting  demon  she  fled  on,  as  if  she  ^ould  escape  from^he 

ZtTlTrP' ''^'''  was  gnawing  at  her  hear^  ;  seek  ng 
for  rest  and  finding  it  not.     Clutching  her  breast  f^ercelv  at 

r:;; r^^' '"k"^?-  ^^^^^^ ^"^^^  -  ^^  she  loud  fea 

thence  the  anguish  that  was  driving  her  mad.  she  still  flew 
on  until  once  again  she  found  herself  before  he  brilliantly 
'.ghted  mansion  of  Earl  De  Courcy.  Swelling  on  the  nigM 
air,  came  borne  to  her  ear  strains  of  softest  music,  as"  to 
mock  her  misery.  Gay  forms  went  flitting  past  the  windows 
and  at  intervals  soft  musical  peals  of  lau^ghter  m  ngled  .Tth 
the  louder  sounds  of  gayety.     Folding  her  arms  over  her 

w  th.'  il'  f^'^  !f' """^  ^^^^"'^  ^  lamp-post,  and   looked, 
wih  a  steady  smile,  up  at  the  illuminated  "marble  hall  " 

?nf  bv  her  fre^'fi  commanding  form,  made  more  command- 
ng  by  her  free,  fiery  costume,  stood  out  in  bold  relief,  in  the 

ffir'lt   r^^' b?t?-"'^'r---''"'  ?^^'  ''''  -''  '''  ^^^^  ^"-^ 
lair.y  .ernHv  in  its  u.LcnMiy  01  nate.     And  that  smile  curling 


THE  MOTHER'S  DESPAIR. 


5T 


:ness  alone 
were — the 
;  and  she 
'  wild,  pale 
the  lamp, 
It   anguish 
t,  a  female 
i  if  by  the 
my  waters 
>ale  young- 
woe  ;  and 
"ar  down, 
unge,  and 
3f  one  of 
ough  the 
hite,  wild 
and  then 
errible  to 

,  leaving 
the  dark 
hionable 
lid  be  no 
led  by  a 
from  the 

seeking 
ercely  at 
uld  tear 
still  dew 
rilliantly 
he  night 

as  if  to 
/indows, 
:led  with 
)ver  her 

looked, 
le  hall" 
mmand- 
:f ,  in  the 
h  a  look 
!  curling 


her  thin,  colorless  lips — Satan  himself  might  have  envied  her 
that  demoniacal  smile  of  unquenchable  malignity  I 

Moving  through  his  gorgeous  rooms,  Earl  De  Courcy 
dreamed  not  of  the  dark,  vengeful  glance  that  would,  if  it 
could,  have  pierced  those  solid  walls  of  stone  to  seek  him. 
And  yet  ever  before  him,  to  mar  his  festivity,  would  arise 
the  haunting  memory  of  that  convulsed  face,  those  distended 
eye-balls,  those  blanched  lips,  those  upraised  hands,  plead- 
ing vainly  for  the  mercy  he  could  not  grant.  Amid  all  the 
glitter  and  gayety  of  the  brilliant  scene  around  him,  he  could 
not  forget  the  pleadings  of  that  strong  heart  in  its  strong 
agony.  He  thought  little  of  her  threats— of  her  maledic- 
tions ;  yet,  when  some  hours  later  he  missed  his  son  from 
tlie  gay  scene,  dark  thoughts  of  assassination— of  the  unfail- 
ing subtle  poisons  gipsies  were  so  skilful  in,  arose  before 
him ;  and  he  shuddered  with  a  vague  presentiment  of  dread. 
But  his  son  had  returned  safe;  and  now  the  stately  old 
nobleman  stood  gayly  chatting  with  a  bevy  of  fair  ladies, 
who  clustered  round  him  like  so  many  gay,  glittering,  tropical 
butterflies. 

"  Oh  1  she  was  positively  the  most  delightful  old  thing 
I  «ver  saw  1  "  exclaimed  the  gay  voice  of  gay  little  Miss 
Clara  Jernyngham.  '<  Just  like  '  Hecate  '  in  '  Macbeth,'  for 
all  the  world— the  very  deau  ideal  of  a  delightful  Satanic  old 
sorceress !  I  would  have  given  anything — my  diamond  ring, 
my  French  poodle,  every  single  one  of  my  lovers,  or  even  a 
♦  perfect  love  of  a  bonnet ' — to  have  had  her  tell  my  fortune. 
I  fairly  dote  on  all  those  delightfully-mysterious,  enchanting, 
ugly  old  gipsies  who  come  poking  round,  stealing  and  telling 
fortunes.  What  in  the  world  did  she  want  of  vou,  mv 
lord?"  ^  ^ 

A  shadow  fell  darkly  over  the  brow  of  the  earl  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  he  recollected  that  dark,  impassioned  woman  plead- 
ing for  her  only  son ;  but  it  passed  away  as  quickly  as  it 
came,  ?nd  he  answered,  with  a  smile : 

"  To  tell  my  fortune,  of  course,  little  bright-eyes.  Am  I 
not  an  enviable  man  ? " 

"  And  did  she  really  tell  it  ?  Oh,  how  delightful  1  What 
did  she  say,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  That  I  was  to  propose  to  Miss  Clara  Jernvno-ham  who 
was  to  say,  '  With  pleasure,  my  lord  I  '—that  I  was1;o  indulge 


3LkMQ^ 


52 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


r-'i 


and  French  poodles  to  an  un« 


1.81 


her  with  '  loves  of  bonnets 
limited  extent — that — " 

"  Now,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  Miss  Clara 
pouting,  while  a  peal  of  silvery  laughter  arose  from  the  rest! 
"  I  wouldn't  be  a  mere  countess  at  any  price.  I'll  have  a 
ducal  coronet,  if  I  die  for  it  I  You  know  the  old  Duke  of 

?;^77',™^  ^°''^'"  ^^^  ^^^^^'  ^"  a  mysterious  whisper. 
Well,  he  IS  not  quite  right  in  his  mind,  poor  man !  and  I 
am  gomg  to  propose  to  him  the  very  first  chance !  The 
family  diamonds  are  superb,  and  I  will  become  tb-.T.  beauti- 
fully you  know  1  This  is  strictly  en^re  nous,  though  ;  and  if 
you  don't  tell,  my  lord,  you  shall  have  an  invitation  to  the 
wedding,  and  drink  my  health  in  his  grace's  old  wine  !  " 

And  with  her  pretty  little  face  all  dimpled  with  smiles, 
Miss  Clara  danced  away  to  a  window  near,  and,  lifting  the 
heavy  curtains,  peeped  out. 

The  earl  had  bowed,  and,  with  his  hand  on  his  heart,  had 
promised,  with  befitting  gravity,  to  preserve  the  young  lady's 
secret  inviolate,  and  was  now  turning  away,  when  a  sudden 
ejaculation  from  Miss  Clara's  rosy  lips  brought  him  again 
to  her  side.  ° 

"Oh,  my  lord!  only  look  I  "  she  cried,  in  a  breathless 
whisper,  pointing  out.  "  There  is  that  dark,  dreadful  ginsv 
we  were  talking  of,  herself.  Only  look  at  that  awful  face- 
it  is  positively  enough  to  make  one's  blood  run  cold.  Could 
she  have  heard  us,  do  you  think,  my  lord .? " 

At  any  ether  time,  the  gay  little  lady's  undisguised  terror 
would  have  amused  the  earl ;  but  now,  with  that  dark,  stern 
terrible  face  gleaming  like  a  vision  from  the  dead,  in  the 
fitful  light  of  the  street-lamp,  he  felt  his  very  blood  curdle 
It  rose  before  him  so  unexpectedly,  as  if  she  had  risen  from 
the  earth  to  confront  him,  that  even  his  strong  heart  grew 
for  a  moment  appalled.     Her  tall  form  looming  up  unnat- 
urally large  in  the  uncertain  light ;  her  unsheltered  head, 
on  which  the  rain  mercilessly  beat;  her  steady,  burnino- 
unswerving  gaze  fixed  on  the  very  window  where  they  stood 
—all  combined,  sent  a  thrill  of  terror,  such  as  in  all  his  life 
he  had  never  felt  before,  to  the  very  heart  of  the  earl 
^    She  savv  them  as  they  stood  there;  for  by  the  brilliant 
jets  01  light,  his  imposing  form  was  plainly  revealed  in  the 
iarge  wmuow.      Slowly,  like  an  inspired  sibyl  of  darkest 


to  an  un- 

[iss  Clara, 
n  the  rest. 
'11  have  a 
i  Duke  of 
>  whisper, 
an !  and  I 
ice  I  The 
^m  beauti- 
jh ;  and  if 
3n  to  the 
ine  !  " 
th  smiles, 
ifting  the 

leart,  had 
ing  lady's 
a  sudden 
lim  again 

)reathless 
ful  gipsy 
ff ul  face ; 
.     Could 

ed  terror 
rk, stern, 
d,  in  the 
i  curdle, 
sen  from 
art  grew 
ip  unnat- 
ed  head, 
burning, 
ley  stood 
1  his  life 
rl. 

brilliant 
d  in  the 

darkest 


THE  MOTHER'S  DESPAIR. 


53 


doom,  she  raised  one  skinny  hand,  and,  while  her  long, 
flickering  finger  pointed  upward,  her  ominous  gaze  never 
for  a  single  instant  wandered  from  his  face.  So  wild,  so 
threatening  was  her  look,  that  the  shriek  she  had  opened 
her  mouth  to  utter,  froze  on  little  Miss  Jernyngham's  Ups ; 
and  the  earl,  with  a  shudder,  shfided  his  eyes  with  his  hands 
to  shut  out  the  weird  sight.  One  moment  later,  when  he 
looked  again,  the  dark,  portentous  vision  was  gone,  and 
nothing  met  his  eye  but  the  slanting  rain  falling  on  the 
wet,  glittering  pavement. 

Slowly  and  reluctantly,  as  though  unwilling  to  go,  the 
clouds  of  night  rolled  sullenly  back,  and  morning,  with  dark, 
shrouded  face  and  dismal  fog,  broke  over  London. 

The  crash,  the  din,  the  surging  roar  of  busy  life  had 
commenced.  The  vast  heart  of  the  mighty  Babel  was  throb- 
bing with  the  unceasing  stream  of  life.  Men,  looking  like 
specters,  in  the  thick,  yellow  fog,  buttoned  up  in  overcoats, 
and  scowling  at  the  weather,  passed  up  and  down  the 
thronged  thoroughfares.  On  the  river,  barges,  yachts  and 
boats  ran  against  each  other  in  the  gloom,  and  curses,  loud 
and  deep,  from  hoarse  throats,  mingled  with  peals  of  gruff 
laughter,  from  crowds  of  rowdy  urchins  on  the  wharves, 
who,  secure  in  their  own  safety,  seemed  hugely  to  enjoy  the 
discomfit-JT  of  their  fellow-heathens.  The  dark  bosom  of 
the  slugr  I'hames  rose  and  fell  calmly  enough,  telling  no 
tales  of  *ie  misery,  woe  and  shame  hidden  forever  under 
its  gloomy  waves. 

A  large,  black,  dismal-looking  ship  lay  moored  to  one  of 
the  docks,  and  a  vast  concourse  of  people  were  assembled 
to  witness  the  crowd  of  convicts  who  were  to  be  borne  far 
away  from  "  Merrie  England  "  in  her,  that  morning.  Two- 
by-two  they  came,  chained  together  hand  and  foot,  like  oxen ; 
and  the  long,  gloomy  procession  wound  its  tortuous  way  to 
the  vessel's  side,  amid  the  laughter,  scoffs  and  jeers  of  the 
crowd.  Yet  there  were  sad  faces  in  that  crowd,  too — faces 
hard,  rough  and  guilt-stained — that  grew  sorrowful  as  better 
men's  might  have  grown,,  as  some  friend,  son,  husband  or 
brother  went  by,  straining  their  eyes  to  take  a  last  look  at 
the  land  they  were  leaving  forever.  Now  and  then,  some 
fair  young  face  scarcely  past  boyhood  would  pass  in  the 
f«lon  gang—faces  hard  to  associate  with  the  idea  of  guilt ; 


1 1 


J^LjLJLMdkL 


^mML 


54 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


P 
If 


LhT  1  u  '^  dark  savage,  morose  men,  with  scowling  eyes 
and  guilt-hardened  looks-men  inured  to  crime  fromMeIr 
very  infancy,  and  paying  crime's  just  penalty  now. 

At  last  came  one  who  was  greeted  with  an  insulting  cheer 
that  rung  to  the  very  heavens.  And  "  Hurrah  I  for  the 
gentleman  g.psy  1  "«  Hurrah  1  hurrah  1  for  the  thief  from 
Eton  1     rung  out  agam  and  again,  until  the  welkin  rung. 

Proudly  erect  with  his  fine  head  thrown  back;  his  full 
falcon  eyes  flashing  with  a  scorn  that  made  more  than  one 
scoffing  gaze  fall,  walked  the  son  of  the  gipsy  queen 
fn  ^^.°"'  Kuf  '^  '"'  °^  ^^"^^°"  ^^^^^^d  him  as^he  went  on  • 
cbVs  :Se^hemsel  ^^^\^h-\-^-'  belonging  to  theif  own 

a  wild  hLl  ^  i''^'  ■'^•"'^^  ^^^"^-  ^"'  ^J^e»  ^  woman- 
a  wild,  haggard,  despairing  woman-rushed  through  the 
crowd,  and  greeted  him  with  the  passionate  cry:  "  My  son  I 
oh,  my  son  l-my  son  1 "  a  silence  like  that  of  deathTeU  over 
he  vast  hrong.  Unheeding  all  around  her,  the  fHpsy  Ke- 
tura  would  have  forced  her  way  to  his  sid^;  buf  she  was 
held  back  by  those  who  had  charge  of  the  convicts  Ind 
the  dreary  procession  passed  on  its  way. 

All  were  on  board  at  last;  and  the  vessel,  with  a  fair 
wind,  was  moving  away  from  the  wharf.     Th;  c  owd  was 
dispersing ;  and  the  officer,  at  last,  who  was  guardiStura 
moved  away  with  the  rest,  casting  a  compLionategbnce 
on  the  face  white  with  woman's  utmost  woe.  ^ 

hand?  tl?5   '^'T^:  f'^    '^'^^"^"^   ^^eballs    and    clenched 
hands    the  wretched  woman  watched    the    ship  that   bore 
away  the  son  she  so  madly  loved.     A  sort  of  desyfate  hope 
was  in   her  heart;  still,  while  it  remained   in  s^ght  some! 
thing  might  intervene  to  restore  him  yet.     With  parted  iTos 
and  heaving  breast,  she  stood  there,  as  any  oth^er  moth^ 
might  stand,  and  watched  the  sods  piled  oVr  her  Ss 
grave  ;  and  still  she  would  not  believe  he  had  Tone  fore^/ 
A   last  the  vessel  disappeared ;  the   last:  trace  of  heV  white 
sails  were  gone  ;  and   then,  with  a  terrific  shriek  that  those 
who  heard  might  never  forget,  she  threw  up  both  arms  and 
fell,  in  strong  convulsions,  to  the  ground.  ' 


MRS.  TOOSYPEGS  '"itfRN  UP"  AGAIN.     55; 


CHAPTER  VIIL 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS  "  TURNS  UP  "  AGAIN. 

•'  His  looks  do  argue  him  replete  with  modesty." 

— Shakspeare. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Ilarkins,  it  ain't  possible,  now  !  "  exclaimed 
a  struggling,  incredulous  voice.  "Just  to  think  we  should 
meet  again  after  such  a  long  time  1  I'm  sure  it's  real  sur- 
prising." 

The  speaker,  a  pale  young  man,  with  a  profusion  of  light 
hair  and  freckles,  and  a  gaudy  hand  carpet-bag,  was  taking 
a  stroll  on  the  classic  banks  of  the  Serpentine,  when  sud- 
denly espying  a  short,  plethoric,  gruff-looking,  masculine 
individual  coming  toward  him,  he  made  a  sudden  plunge  at 
him,  and  grasped  his  hand  with  an  energy  that  was  quite 
Startling. 

The  short  individual  addressed,  with  a  wholesome  dis- 
trust of  London  pickpockets  before  his  eyes,  raised  a  stout 
stick  he  carried,  with  the  evident  intention  of  trying  the 
thickness  of  the  pale  young  man's  skull ;  but  before  it  could 
come  down,  the  proprietor  of  the  freckles  began,  in  a  tone 
of  mild  expostulation  : 

"Why,  Mr.  Harkins,  you  haven't  forgotten  me — have 
you?  Don't  you  recollect  the  young  man  you  brought  to 
London  in  your  wagon  one  rainy  night  ?  Why,  Mr.  Har- 
kins, I'm  O.  C.  Toosypegs  I  "  said  the  pale  young  man,  in  a 
slightly  aggrieved  tone. 

"  Why,  so  hit  be  I  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Harkins,  brightening 
up,  and  lowering  his  formidable  weapon.  "  Blessed  !  if  you 
^adn't  gone  clean  hout  my  'eau  1  Why,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  this 
is  the  most  surprisingest  thing  as  ever  was!  I  hain't  seen 
you  I  don't  care  when  1  " 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Harkins,"  said  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  gratefully.  "  I  knew  you'd  be  very  glad  to  see 
me,  and  it's  real  kind  of  you  to  say  so.     I  hope  Mrs.  Har- 

Irinc   anrl    xrr>iir  infonf   fotiii'lir   oyr^    oil    ^..li-n   ,..^11      T   il 1- »> 

D ^  J — ,   ,..,!,,,j.   ji£,_  ^jj  j^uivu  \Tcii,  1  iijiniK.  yuu. 

«•  Yes,  they're  hall  among  the  middlin's,"  said  Mr.  Har- 


tf^lffnk 


JSk 


TiiiVIl 


56 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I<f'i 


kins,  indifferently.  "  Mrs.  Harkins  'as  been  and  gone  and 
'ad  the— what's  this  now  ?  "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  pausing, 
with  knit  brows,  and  scratching  his  head  in  perplexity. 
"  Blessed!  if  I  hain't  clean  forgot  the  name,  it  was  'tongs,' 
No— yes— it  was  '  tongs,'  hand  something  else." 

«'  And  poker,"  suggested  Mr.  Toosypegs,  thoughtfully. 
"  Mr.  Toosypegs,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  facing  round  fiercely, 
"  I  'ope  you  don't  mean  for  to  hinsult  a  cove,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Harkins  1  "  remonstrated  the  astonished  and 
aggrieved  Mr.  Toosypegs.  "  I'm  sure  I  never  meant  any 
such  thmg ;  I  wouldn't  insult  you  for  all  the  world  for— ^ 
for—"  Mr.  Toosypegs  paused  for  a  figure  of  speech  strong 
enough.  "  For  any  amount  of  money,  Mr.  Harkins,"  added 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  warmly. 

"  Well,  it  don't  make  no  matter  hif  you  did,"  said  Mr. 
Harkins,  cooling  suddenly  down.     "  But  what  has  this  Mrs 
'Arkins    'ad— tongs— tongs ?      Oh,    yes!    tongs-will-eat-ns) 
that's  the  name,  Mr.  Toosypegs.    Mrs.  'Arkins  'ad  that,"  said 
Mr.  Harkins,  triumphantly. 

"  Tonsilitus,  perhaps,"  insinuated  Mr.  Toosypegs,  meekly 
"  Well,  hain't  that  wot  I  said  ? "  exclaimed   Mr.  Harkins' 
rousmg  up  again.     "  Hand  my  John  Halbert,  he's  been  and 
'ad  a  Sarah  Bell  affection—" 

"  Cerebral,"  again  ventured  Mr.  Toosypegs,  humbly. 
"  Well,  hain't  that  wot  I  said  ?  "  shouted  Mr.  Harkins, 
glarmg  savagely  at  the  republican,  who  wilted  suddenly 
down.  "  Blessed !  if  I  hain't  a  good  mind  to  bring  you  a 
clip  'long  side  the  'ead,  for  your  imperence  in  conterdicting 
me  lake  this  'ere  hev'ry  time.?  Why,  you'd  perwoke  a 
samt,  so  you  would  !  "  exclaimed  the  outraged  Mr.  Harkins. 
"  Mr.  Harkins,  I'm  sure  I  never  meant  to  offend  you,  and 
I'm  real  sorry  for  your  trouble,"  ap'  ' -gized  Mr.  Toosypesjs 
m  a  remorse-stricken  tone. 

"  Well,  it  wasn't  no  trouble,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  testily. 
"  Cos  he  got  took  to  the  'orsepittle  for  fear  hany  the  rest 
hof  the  family  would  take  it.  Mary-Hann,  she  got  her  feet 
wet,  and  took  the  inn-flue-end-ways ;  whot  yer  got  to  say 
ag'in'  that  1 "  fiercely  demanded  Mi.  Harkins. 

Mr.  Toosypegs,  who  had  been  muttering  "  influenza  "  to 
himself,  and  chuckling  inwardly,  as  he  thou^^ht  how  h^ 
could  correct  Mr.  Harkins,  in  his  own  mind,^  in  spite  of 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS  "TURNS  UP"  AGAIN.      57 

him,  was  so  completely  overpowered  by  this  bristling  ques- 
tion, that  the  blood  of  conscious  guilt  rushed  to  his  face, 
and  Mr.  O.  C.  Toosypegs  stood  blushing  like  a  red  cab- 
bage. 

"  Because  if  you've  got  hanything  to  say  ag'in  hit,"  went 
on  Mr.  Harkins,  pointing  one  stubby  forefinger  at  society 
in  general,  "you  'ad  better  let  hit  hout  for  a  little  hexercise, 
that's  all.     Come  now  1  " 

"  Mr.  Harkins,  it's  very  kind  of  you  to  give  me  permis- 
sion, and  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,''  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, looking  severely  at  a  small  boy  who  had  a  hold  of  his 
coat-tails  behind.  "But  I  hadn't  the  remotest  idea  of  say- 
ing anything,  whatever,  against  it.  I'm  sure  it's  perfectly 
right  and  proper  Mary  Ann  should  have  the  influenza,  if 
she  wants  to." 

"  Ah  1  I  didn't  know  but  what  you  might  think  she 
'adn't,"  said  Mr.  Harkins  blandly.  "There  wasn't  hany 
tellin',  you  know,  but  what  you  might  say  a  Hinglishman's 
'ouse  wasn't  his  castle,  and  he  couldn't  'ave  whatever  he 
likes  there.  Well,  the  baby,  he  got  the  crook,  which  'ad  the 
meloncholic  heffec'  hof  turning  'im  perfectly  black  in  the 
face." 

Mr.  Toosypegs,  though  inwardly  surmising  Mr.  Harkins 
meant  the  croup,  thought  it  a  very  likely  effect  tc  be  brought 
about  by  either. 

"  Then  Sary  Jane  took  the  brown  skeeters,  hand  I  'ad 
the  lum-beggar  hin  my  hown  back,  but  on  the  who'e  we 
were  all  pretty  well,  thanky  !  " 

"  I  am  real  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  vith 
friendly  warmth.  "  I've  been  pretty  well  myself  since,  too. 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Let's  see,  it's  near  a  month,  hain't  it,  since  the  night  I 
took  you  to  London  ? "  said  Mr.  Harkins. 

"  Three  weeks  and  five  days  exactly,"  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, briskly. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  disremember  the  hold  gipsy  has 
we  took  hin  that  night— do  you ?  'I  was  a  stranger  hand 
you  took  me  hin.'  That's  in  the  Bible,  Mr.  Toosypegs," 
said  Mr.  Harkins,  drawing  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth, 
and  looking  pious,  and  giving  Mr.  Toosypegs  a  dig  in  the 
ribs,  to  mark  the  beauty  of  the  quotation. 


1. 


mmtmimtimiimM 


MsUL 


■■-^^--  ■■  ff^^  ,  ^.  s7jiiKE-.fflSH|-... 


58 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


l;;i 


II 


5« 


Itaf 


"  Yes,  Mr.  Harkins,  but  not  so  hard,  if  you  please— it 
hurts,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  as  he 
rubbed  the  place. 

"  What  does  ?  that  there  piece  hout  vhe  iJible  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Harkins,  with  one  of  his  sudden  bursts  of  fierceness. 

"Oh,  Lor',  no  !  "  said  the  deeply-scandalized  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, surprised  into  profanity  by  the  enormity  of  the  charge 
"  It's  your  elbow,  Mr.  Harkins,  it  hurts,"  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, with  a  subdued  sniffle. 

"Humph!"  grunted  Mr.  Harkins;  "well  hit's  hof  no 
squenceyance,  but  you  don't  disremember  the  hold  gipsy- 
woman  we  took  in,  do  you  ?  " 

"  The  one  with  the  black  eyes  and  short  frock  ?  Oh,  I 
remember  her !  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs.  "  I've  never  seen 
her  since." 

"No,  I  shouldn't  s'pose  you  'ad,"  said  Mr.  Harkins, 
gruffly,  "  seem'  she's  as  mad  as  a  March  'are,  down  there 
with  her  tribe.  Mysterious  are  the  way-  of  Providence. 
You  blamed  little  rascal !  hif  you  do  that  again,  I'll  chuck 
you  inter  the  Serpentine!  blessed  hif  I  don't." 

His  last  sentence,  which  began  with  a  pious  upturning  of 
the  whites,  or  rather  the  yellows,  of  Mr.  Harkins'  eyes,  was 
abruptly  cut  short  by  a  depraved  youth,  who,  turning  a 
course  of  summersatdts  for  the  benefit  of  his  constitution 
rolled  suddenly  against  Mr.  Harkins'  shins,  and  the  next 
instant  found  himself  whimpering  and  rubbing  a  portion  of 
his  person,  where  Mr.  Harkins  had  planted  a  well-applied 
kick. 

"  The  way  the  principuls  of  perliteness  is  neglected  to 
be  hnistilled  hinto  the  minds  of  youths  now-a-days,  is  dis- 
tressin'  to  behold,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  with  a  grimace  of 
pain  ;  "  but  has  I  was  sayin'  habout  the  hold  gipsy  queen 
she's  gone  crazy,  hand  "—(here  Mr.  Harkins  lowered  his 
voice  to  a  hoarse  whisper)—"  she's  went  hand  got  a  baby." 

"  Do  tell !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Toosypegs,  who  saw  it  was 
expected  of  him  to  be  surprised,  and  who  consequently  was, 
though  he  could  not  see  any  earthly  reason  for  it. 

"A  baby,"  went  on  Mr.  Harkins,  who  would  have  em- 
phasized his  words  by  another  dig  in  the  ribs,  but  that  Mr. 


Toosypegs  dodged  back  m 
Idckin' !  " 


alarm  ;  "  a  real  baby,  alive  and 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS  "  TURNS  UP  "  AGAIN.    50 

"  Pshaw  1  it  ain't  possible  1  "  said  Mr  Toosypegs,  in  a 
voice  betraying  not  the  slightest  particle  of  emotion, 

"  It  is— hincredulous  as  it  may  sound,  it's  true,''  said  Mr. 
Harkins,  solemnly.  "  The  way  I  found  hit  hout  was  this  :  I 
was  comin'  halong  'ome,  one  night  hafter  bringing  hoff  a 
cove  w'at  got  waylaid  to  Lunnon,  a-singiu'  to  myself  that 
there  song,  the  '  Roast  Beef  hof  Hold  Hingland,"  hand  a- 
thinkin'  no  more  'arm,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  nor  a  lot  hof  young 
pigses  gom'  to  market,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  giving  his  stick  a 
grand  flourish  to  n  ark  this  bold  figure  of  speech.  "  It 
wasn't  a  dark  night,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  nor  yet  a  light  one  ; 
the  starses  was  a-shinin'like  heverything,  when,  hall  hof  a 
suddint,  a  'and  was  laid  hon  the  reins,  hand  a  voice,  so  deep 
and  orful-like  hit  made  me  fairly  jump,  said : 

" '  Will  you  let  me  ride  hin  your  vagging  has  far  has 
you're  going  ? ' 

"  I  looked  round,  Mr.  Toosypegs,"  continued  Mr.  Harkins, 
m  a  husky  whisper,  "  and  there  I  see'd  that  there  gipsy 
queen,  lookin'  so  dark,  hand  fierce,  and  wild-like,  I  nearly 
jumped  clean  hout  the  wagging.  Blessed  I  if  I  wasn't  skeert  I 
Just  then  I  heerd  a  cry  from  a  bundle  she'd  got  in  her  arms, 
hand  what  do  you  think  I  saw,  Mr.  Toosypegs  ?  " 

The  startling  energy  with  which  Mr.  Harkins,  carried 
away  by  the  excitement  of  his  story,  asked  this  question,  so 
discomposed  the  mild  young  man  with  the  freckles,  that  he 
gave  a  sudden  jump  back,  and  glanced  in  terror  at  the  nar- 
rator's elbow. 

"Really,  Mr.  Harkins,  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  grasping  his  carpet  bag,  nervously. 

"  A  baby  !  "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  in  the  same  mysterious, 
husky  whisper;  "a  baby,  Mr.  Toosypegs  I  Now,  the 
question  his,  where  did  that  there  baby  come  from  >  " 

Mr.  Harkins  gave  his  hat  a  slap  on  the  crown,  for  em- 
phasis, and,  resting  both  hands  on  the  top  of  his  stick,  came 
to  a  sudden  halt,  and  looked  Mr.  Toosypegs  severely  in  the 
face. 

"  A— really,  Mr.  Harkins— I— a— I  hadn't  the  remotest 
idea,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  blushing  to  the  very  roots  of  his 
hair.     "  I  hope  you  don't  suspect  me — " 

"  Bah!  "  interrnptpc!  Mr.  Harkins,  with  a  look  of  disgust; 
«*  nobody  never  said  nothin'  about  you  1     Well,  Mr.  Toosy- 


I 


60 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


pegs,  I  took  her  hin,  has  she  hasked,  and  brought  her  along 
has  far  has  my  'ouse,  where  Missus  'Arkins  gave  her  some- 
thing to  eat  for  the  Httle  'un,  which  was  has  fine  a  little 
fellow  has  you'd  wish  to  see.  Then  she  went  hoflf,  and  the 
next  week  we  heard  she'd  gone  and  went  crazy." 

"  Poor  thing.  Why,  I'm  real  sorry,  Mr.  Harkins.  I  dare 
say  she  was  a  real  nice  old  lady,  if  she'd  been  let  alone,' ' 
said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  tone  of  commiseration. 

"  Why,  who  tetched  her  ?  "  said  Mr.  Harkins,  testily. 

"  Well,  they  went  and  transported  her  son,  and  I'm  sure 
it  wasn't  right  at  all,  when  he  did  not  want  to  go.  She 
looked  real  put  out  about  it  that  night,  herself,  too." 

"  S'posc  you  heerd  her  son  was  drown-ded  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  saw  it  in  the  papers,  and  I  was  real  sorry — I 
really  was.     Mr.  Harkins,  I  dare  say  you  was,  too  .''  " 

Mr.  Harkins  grunted. 

"  All  hands  was  lost,  wasn't  they ' "  said  Mr.  Harkins, 
after  a  short  pause. 

"  Yes;  all  hands  and  feet,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  venturing 
on  a  weak  joke  ;  but,  catching  the  stern  look  of  Mr.  Har- 
kins, at  this  improper  levity,  he  instantly  grew  serious 
again  ;  "the  ship  struck  against  something — " 

"  A  mermaid,"  suggested  Mr.  Harkins. 

"  Mr.  Haikins,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  but  it 
wasn't  a  mermaid,  it  was  a  coral  reef — that's  the  name — and 
went  to  the  bottom  with  all  hands  and  the  cook." 

**  Which  is  a  melancholic  picture  hof  the  treacherousness 
hof  the  hocean,"  said  Mr.  Harkins,  in  a  moralizing  tone, 
"  hand  should  be  a  severe  warning  to  hall,  when  they  steal, 
not  to  let  themselves  get  tooken  hup,  lest  they  be  tooken 
down  a  peg  or  two,  hafter." 

"  But  you  know,  Mr.  Harkins,  it's  been  found  out  since  he 
wan't  the  one  who  stole  the  plate,  at  all.  That  man  they 
arrested  for  murder,  and  are  going  to  hang,  confessed  he 
did  it.  I'm  sure  you  might  have  seen  it  in  the  papers,  Mr. 
Harkins." 

"  1  don't  put  no  faith  hin  the  papers  myself,"  said  Mr. 
Harkins,  in  a  severe  tone ;  "  they  hain't  to  be  believed, 
none  of  'em,  Hif  they  says  one  thing,  you  may  be  sure 
hit's  just  hexactly  the  tother.     That  there's  my  opinion." 

"  But,   Mr.   Harkins,   look   here,"    said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS  "TURNS  UP"  AGAIN.     6i 

deeply  impressed  with  this  profound  view  of  the  newspaper 
press,  in  general,  '« I  dare  say  that's  true  enough,  and  it's 
real  sensible  of  you  to  say  so  ;  but  in  this  case  it  must  be 
true.  Why,  they're  going  to  hang  the  man,  Mr.  Harkins, 
ad  he  confessed  he  did  that,  along  with  ever  so  many  other 
unlawful  things.  I  wonder  if  hanging  hurts  much,  Mr.  Har- 
kins  ? "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  involuntarily  loosening  his 
neck-cloth,  as  he  thought  of  it. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Mr.  Harkins,  thought- 
fully, "  I  never  was  'anged  myself,  but  I  had  a  cousin  who 
married  a  vidder."  Here,  Mr.  Harkini.,  taking  advantage 
of  a  moment's  unguarded  proximity,  gave  Mr.  Toosypegs  a 
facetious  dig  in  the  ribs,  which  caused  that  ill-used  young 
gentleman  to  spring  back  with  something  like  a  howl. 

"  You  don't  know  how  sharp  your  elbow  is,  Mr.  Harkins  ; 
and  my  ribs  are  real  thin.  I  ain't  used  to  such  treatment, 
and  it  hurts,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  whom  this  seemed 
to  be  the  climax  of  wrong,  and  beyond  which  there  was  no 
proceeding  further. 

"  I  have  heerd  it  was  honly  their  shins  as  was  tender  hin 
Hamerica,"  said  Mr.  Harkins.  "When  are  you  goin'back 
to  Hamerica,  Mr.  Toosypegs  ?  " 

"  Not  before  a  year — perhaps  two,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
brightening  suddenly  up.  "  And  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Har- 
kins, America  is  a  real  nice  place,  and  I'll  be  ever  so  glad  to 
get  back  to  it.  There  was  th^  nicest  people  round  where 
we  lived  that  ever  was,"  went  on  Mr.  Toosypegs,  getting 
enthusiastic.  "  There  was  Judge  Lawless,  up  at  Heath 
Hill;  and  old  Admiral  Havcnful,  at  the  White  Squall,  -^nd 
lots  of  other  folks.  Where  I  lived  was  called  Dismal  Hol- 
low, owing  to  its  being  encircled  by  huge  black  rocks  on  all 
sides,  and  a  dark  pine  forest  on  the  other." 

•'  Pleasant  place  it  must  'ave  been,"  said  Mr.  H.irkins, 
with  a  strong  sneer. 

"  Well,  it  wasn't  so  pleasant  as  you  might  think,"  seriously 
replied  Mr.  Toosypegs,  on  whom  his  companion's  sarcasm 
was  completely  thrown  away  ;  "  the  sun  never  shone  there  ; 
and  as  Dismal  Creek,  that  run  right  before  the  i.ouse,  got 
swelled  up  every  time  it  rained,  the  house  always  made  a 
point  of  c^Qtt'iTif  flooded^  and  so  we  lived  most  of  the  time  in 
the  attic  in  the  spring.     There  were  runaway  niggers  in  the 


''mmm> 


,«*!_ 


6a 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


!¥■ 


■11 


woods,  too,  who  used  to  steal  and  do  a  good  many  other 
nasty  things,  so  it  wasn't  safe  to  go  out  at  night,  but,  on  the 
whole,  it  was  protly  pleasant." 

"  Wot  ever  made  you  leave  sich  a  nice  place  ?  "  said  Mr 
Harkins,  with  a  litth.  suppressed  chuckle. 

"  Why.  Mr.  Harkins,  I  may  tell  you  as  a  friend,  for  I 
know  you  won't  mention  it  again,"  said  Mr.  Too^ypegs 
lowering  his  voice  to  a  deeply-confidential  and  stnctlv 
private  cadence.  "  My  pa  died  when  I  was  a  little  shaver 
about  so-year-old,  and  ma  and  I  were  pretty  poor  to  be 
candid  about  it.  Well,  then,  three  years  ago  my  ma  died, 
too,  which  was  a  serious  affliction  to  me,  Mr.  Harkins,  and  I 
was  .  jft  plunged  in  deepest  sorrow  and  poverty.  The  nig- 
gers worked  the  farm,  and  I  was  employing  my  time  in  cul- 
tivating  a  pair  of  whiskers  to  alleviate  my  grief  when  I 
received  a  letter  from  an  uncle  here  in  Enghmd,  telling  me 
to  come  right  on,  and,  if  he  liked  me,  he'd  make  me  his  heir 
when  he  died,  which  was  real  kind  of  him.  That's  what 
brought  me  here,  Mr.  Harkins;  and  I'm  stopping  with  my 
uncle  and  his  sister,  who  is  an  unmarried  woman  of  fortv- 
five,  or  so."  ^ 

"  Hand   the   hold  chap's  'live  yet  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Har- 
kins. 

"  Mr.  Harkins,  my  uncle,  I  am  happy  to  say,  still  exists  " 
answered  Mr   Toosypegs,  gravely.  ' 

"  Humph  1   'As  he  got  much  pewter,  Mr.  Toosypegs  ? " 

"Much    what?"  said    the   mild    owner   of   the    freckles 
completely  at  a  loss.     "  You'll  excuse  me,  I  hope,  Mr.  Har- 
kins, but  I  really  don't  understand." 

"Green,"  muttered  Mr.  Harkins,  contemptuously  to 
himself.  Then  aloud  :  "  'Ow  much  do  you  think  he'll  leave 
you  ? " 

"  Well,  about  two  thousand  pounds  or  so,"  said  Mr.  Too- 
sypegs, complacently. 

"  Two— thousand— poun' !  "  slowly  articulated  the  as- 
tounded  Mr.  Harkins.  "  Oh,  my  heye  !— w'y  you'll  be 
rich,  Mr.  Toosypegs  !  What  will  you  do  with  all  that  there 
money  ? " 

"  Why,  my  aunt.  Miss  Priscilla  Dorothea  Toosypegs,  and 
I  are^ going  home  to  Maryland  (that's  where  I  used  to  live, 
Mr.  Harkins),  and  we're  going  to  fit   up  the  old  place  and 


U 


--.a.:saB4fr^a«»a^.*. 


laiiy  other 
)ut,  on  the 

said  Mr. 

;nd,  for  I 
^oo.^ypegs, 
id  strictly 
tie  shaver 
)or,  to  be 
'  ma  died, 
:ins,  and  I 
The  nig- 
ne  in  cul- 
f  when  I 
elling  me 
e  his  heir 
at's  what 
with  my 
of  forty- 
Mr.  Har- 
11  exists," 

tegs  ? " 
freckles, 
Mr.  Har- 

Dusly    to 
i'll  leave 

^r.  Too- 

the  as- 
ou'll  be 
lat  there 

egs,  and 

to  live, 

ace  and 


MR.  TOOSYPEGwS  "TURNS  UP"  AGAIN.     63 

live  there.     Aunt  Priscilla  never  was  in  America,  and  wants 
to  sec  It  real  bad." 

"  Two-thousand— poun',"  still  more  slowly  repeated  Mr 
Harkins.  "  Well,  things  is  'stonishing.  Jest  think  hof  me 
now,  the  honest  and  'ard-working  father  of  ten  children 
hand  you  won't  catch  nobody  going  hand  dying  hand  leaving 
me  one  smgle  blessed  brass  farden,  while  here's  a  cove 
more  n  'alf  a  hass.  I  say,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  you  wouldn't 
lend  me  a  gumea  or  two,  would  you  ?  "  insinuated  Mr.  Har- 
kms  m  his  most  incredulous  voice. 

"Why,  certainly,  Mr.  Harkins,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
briskly,  drawing  out  his  purse.  "  I'm  real  happy  to  be  able 
to  be  of  service  to  you.  Here's  two  guineas,  and  don't  put 
yourself  out  about  paying  it." 

"  Mr.  Toosypegs,  you're  a  brick  1  "  said  Mi.  Harkins 
grasping  his  hand  with  emotion.  "  I  won't  put  myself  hout 
in  the  least,  since  you're  kind  enough  to  request  it;  but  hif 
you  11  come  and  dine  with  me  some  day,  I'll  give  you  a 
dinner  of  b'iled  pertaters  and  roa'-i  I,o..  ons  fit  for  a  kinir. 
Will  you  come  >  "  urged  Mr.  Har  ans,  givMg  him  a  friendly 
poke  with  his  fore-finger.  ^ 

"Certainly  I  will,  Mr.  Harkins,  and  it-  real  kind  in  you 
to  ask  me,  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  po-  eiy.  «« I  see  you're  in 
a  hurry,  so  1 11  bid  you  good-day,  now.  Most  certmnly  I'll 
come,  Mr.  Harkins.     I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you." 


CHAPTER   IX. 


THE   SECRET   REVEALED. 

"  I  was  so  youn^— I  loved  him  so— I  had 
No  mother— God  forgive  me  !— and  I  fell !  " 

Browning. 

And  how  fell  the  news  of  Reginald  Germainc's  innocence 
of  the  crime  for  which  he  was  condemned,  and  his  sad  tnd 
on  the  other  personages  connected  with  our  tale  ?  ' 

^    To   his  mother  came  the  news  in   her  far-off  Preenwnnd 
nouie;  ana  as  sne  heard  he  had  perished  forever  in  the 


64 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW, 


m 


m 


Stormy  sea,  Reason,  already  tottering  in  her  half-crazed 
brain,  entirely  gave  way,  and  she  fled,  a  shrieking  maniac, 
through  the  dim,  old  woods. 

To  Earl  De  Courcy  it  came  in  his  stately  home,  to  fill  his 
heart  with  deepest  sorrow  and  remorse,  Hauntingly  before 
him  arose  the  agonized,  despairing  face  of  the  lonely  woman, 
as  on  that  last  night  she  had  groveled  at  his  feet,  shrieking 
for  that  mercy  he  had  refused.  Proud,  stern  man  as  he  was, 
no  words  can  express  the  deep  pity,  the  heartfelt  sorrow  he 
felt,  as  he  thought  of  that  lonely,  despairing,  childless  woman, 
a  w-anderer  over  the  wide  world. 

To  Lord  Ernest  Villiers  it  came,  bringing  deepest  regret 
for  the  bold-eyed,  high-hearted  youth,  so  unjustly  condemned, 
so  wrongly  accused.  He  thought  of  him  as  he  knew  him 
first — proud,  princely,  handsome,  and  generous.  And  now  ! 
that  young  life,  under  the  unjust  sentence  of  the  law,  had 
passed  away ;  that  haughty  head,  noble  even  in  its  degrada- 
tion, lay  far  under  the  deep  sea,  among  the  bleaching  bones 
of  those  guilt-hardened  men. 

To  one,  in  her  father's  castle  halls,  it  came,  bringing  a. 
feeling  of  untold  relief.  He  had  cruelly  wronged  her  ;  but 
he  was  dead  now,  and  she  freely  forgave  him  for  all  she  had 
suffered.  While  he  lived,  incurable  sorrow  must  be  hers ; 
but  he  was  gone,  and  happy  days  might  dawn  for  her  yet. 
She  might  love  another  now,  without  feeling  it  a  crime  to  do 
so — one  noble  and  generous,  and  worthy  of  her  in  every  way. 
One  deep  breath  of  relief,  one  low  sigh  to  the  memory  of  his 
sad  fate,  and  then  a  look  of  calm,  deep  happiness  stole  over 
the  beautiful  face,  such  as  it  had  not  worn  for  years,  and  the 
beautiful  head,  with  its  wealth  of  raven  ringlets,  dropped  on 
her  arm,  in  a  voiceless  thanksgiving,  in  a  joy  too  intense  for 
words. 

And  this  was  Lady  Maude  Percy. 

In  spite  of  her  steady  refusal  of  his  suit,  Lord  Villiers  had 
not  despaired.  He  could  not  understand  the  cause  of  her 
strange  melancholy  and  persistent  refusal  of  her  hand, 
knowing,  as  he  did,  that  she  loved  him,  but,  believing  the 
obstacle  to  be  merely  an  imaginary  one,  he  hoped  on,  and 
waited  for  the  time  to  come  when  this  singular  fancy  of  hers 
would  be  gone. 


ilf-crazed 
maniac, 

to  fill  his 
ly  before 
y  woman, 
shrieking 
s  he  was, 
lorrow  he 
s  woman, 

St  regret 
idemned, 
new  him 
nd  now  ! 
law,  had 
degrada- 
tig  bones 

inging  a 
her ;  but 

she  had 
be  hers ; 

her  yet. 
ime  to  do 
^ery  way. 
)ry  of  his 
tole  over 
,  and  the 
pped  on 
tense  for 


Hers  had 
e  of  her 
;r  hand, 
ving  the 
on,  and 
y  of  hers 


THE  SECRET  REVEALED. 


65 


That  time  had  come  now.  Calling,  one  morning,  and 
finding  her  in  the  drawing-room,  he  was  greeted  with  a  brill- 
iant smile,  with  a  quick  flush  of  pleasure,  and  a  manner  so 
different  from  her  customary  one,  that  his  heart  bounded 
with  sudden  hope. 

"  I  am  truly  rejoiced  to  see  Lady  Maude  recovering  her 
spirits  again,"  he  said,  his  fine  eyes  lit  up  with  pleasure. 
'•  She  has  been  shadowed  by  the  dark  cloud  of  her  nameless 
melancholy  long  enough." 

"  If  Lord  Villiers  only  knew  how  much  cause  I  had  for 
that  'nameless  melancholy,'  he  would  forgive  me  any  pain  it 
may  ever  have  caused  him,"  she  said,  while  a  shadow  of  the 
past  fell  darkly  over  her  bright  young  face. 

"  And  may  I  not  know  ?  Dearest  Maude,  when  is  this 
mystery  to  end  >  Am  I  never  to  be  made  happy  by  the 
possession  of  this  dear  hand?" 

He  took  the  little,  white  hand,  small  and  snowy  is  a  lily- 
leaf,  and  It  was  no  longer  withdrawn,  but  nestled  lovingly  in 
his,  as  if  there  it  found  its  rightful  home. 

"  Maude,  Maude !  "  he  cried,  in  a  delirium  of  joy    "  is 
your  dark  dream,  then,  in  reality  over  ?     Oh,  Maude,  spe£.k 
and  tell  me  I     Am  I  to  be  made  happy  yet .? "  ' 

"  If  you  can  take  me  as  I  am,  if  you  can  forgive  and  forget 
the  past,  I  am  yours,  Ernest  1  "  she  said,  in  a  thrilling 
whisper.  ° 

In  a  moment  she  was  in  his  arms,  held  to  the  true  heart 
whose  every  throb  was  for  her-her  head  upon  the  breast 
that  was  to  pillow  hers  through  life. 

r^u  ^/""i^'  ^^"^^ '  ^y  ^'■^^^'  "^y  I'fe,  my  peerless  darling  I 
Uh,  Maude,  this  is  too  much  happiness  I  "  he  cried,  in  a  sort 
o.  transport  between  the  passionate  kisses  pressed  on  her 
warm,  yielding  lips. 

Blushingly  she  rose  from  his  embrace,  and  gently  extri- 
cated  herself  from  his  arms.  s       >       m 

'=  Oh,  Maude,  my  beautiful  darling  I  May  Heaven  for- 
ever bless  you  for  this  1  "  he  fervently  exclaimed,  all  aglow 
with  passionate  love.  ^ 

She  had  sunk  into  a  seat,  and  bent  her  head  into  her  hand, 
not^danng  to  meet  the  full,  falcon  gaze,  flashing  with  deepest 
-en..ernGss,  that  she  knew  was  bent  upon  her. 

"Speak  again,  Maude  I     Once  more  let  me  hear  those 


LMEL^J 


66 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I? 


«^l 


m 


1^1 


precious  words  from  your  own  sweet  lips,  Maude  1  Maude, 
sweetest  and  fairest,  speak  1  " 

He  wreathed  his  arms  around  her,  while  he  seemed 
breathing  out  his  very  soul  as  he  aspirated  her  name. 

"  But  you  have  not  heard  all,  my  lord.  This  secret — do 
you  not  wish  to  hear  it  ?  "  she  faintly  said,  without  lifting 
her  dark,  beautiful  eyes. 

"  Not  unless  it  is  your  wish  to  tell  it.  I  want  to  hear 
nothing  but  that  you  are  my  own." 

"  Yet,  when  you  hear  it,  my  lord,  you  may  reject  the  hand 
I  have  offered." 

"  Never,  never  1  Nothing  under  heaven  could  make  me 
do  that !  " 

"  You  speak  rashly.  Lord  Ernest.  Wait  until  you  have 
heard  all.  i  Jare  not  accept  the  noble  heart  and  hand  you 
offer,  without  revealing  the  one  great  error  of  my  youth." 

"  You  commit  error,  my  beautiful  saint  ?  You,  who  are 
as  perfect  in  soul  as  in  body.     Oh,  Maude,  I  cannot  believe 


It. 


But  oh,  how  shall 
I  have  been — what 


"  It  is  true,  nevertheless,  my  lord, 
tell  you  ?  How  can  I  confess  what 
am  ?  " 

There  was  a  sharp  agony  in  her  voice,  and  her  head 
dropped  on  her  hands,  and  her  fair  bosom  rose  and  fell  like 
a  tempest-tossed  sea. 

Encircling  her  with  his  arm,  he  drew  her  down  until  her 
white  face  lay  hidden  in  his  breast,  and  then  pressing  his 
Ups  to  the  dark  ripples  of  hair  sweeping  against  his  cheek, 
he  murmured,  in  tenderest  whisper : 

"  Tell  me  now,  Maude,  and  fear  not ;  for  nothing  you  can 
say  will  convince  me  you  arj  not  as  puie  and  unsullied  as 
the  angels  themselves.  What  is  this  terrible  secret,  sweetest 
love  ? " 

dear  lord,  every  word  you  speak,  every  caress 
makes  my  revelation  the  harder  1  "  she  passion- 
And  yet  it  must  be  made,  even  though  you 
should  spurn  me  from  you  in  loathing  after.     Listen,  my 
lord.     You  think  me  Lady  Maude  Percy  ?  " 

•'  Yes,  dear  love." 

•'  Tliat  is  not  my  name  !  " 

"  What,  Maude  ?  " 


"Oh,  my 
you  give  me, 
ately  cried. 


l^ 


I 


i 


Maude, 

seemed 
le. 

icret — do 
It  lifting 

to  hear 

the  hand 

nake  me 

rou  have 
land  you 
outh." 
who  are 
t  believe 

t  shall  I 
—what  I 

ler  head 
i  fell  like 

until  her 
ssing  his 
lis  cheek, 

5  you  can 

sullied  as 

sweetest 

:ry  caress 
;  passion- 
>ugh  you 
isten,  my 


I 


THE  SECRET  REVEAI.ED.  67 

ir-Ii-'^^^lu'^  '1°^  ""y  l^"^^-  ^°5  I  am  not  mad,  Lord 
Vilhers,  though  you  look  as  if  you  thought  so.  I  have  been 
mad  once  1  You  and  all  the  world  are  deceived.  I  am  not 
what  I  seem." 

"  What,  in  Heaven's  name  do  you  mean .?     What  then  are 

"  I  was  a  wife  I     I  have  been  a  mother  1     I  am  a  widow !  " 
"  Maude  I  " 

"  You  recoil  from  me  in  horror  I  I  knew  it  would  be  so 
I  deserve  it-I  deserve  it !  but  oh,  Lord  Villiers,  it  will  kill 
me  I     she  cried,  passionately  wringing  her  hands. 

"  Maude,  are  you  mac  ?  " 

urW  ^"^-/"^T^l''  ^  ^'"   "°^'  '^  a  grief-crazed   brain,  a 
blighted  life,  a  broken  heart  be  not  madness  " 

"  But  Maude  !  Good  heavens  I  You  are  so  young-not 
yet^  eighteen  1     Oh,  it  cannot  be  true  I  "  he  cried,   incoher- 

TeS"; -fe  1 !?°'  '  ""^  '^^^ '     ^^^  ^°"^  y--  ^^°  I  --  a 

iJJ^'^^  this  >^^'°"  ''  ^^^'^^^"  '     ^'^^'''  ^-^^• 

then?^' Nnr'  '?f  "^  ^  ^  ^^'  "^'^  '  ""^  I  d'd  love  him  so, 
thenl  Not  as  I  love  you,  Lord  Ernest,  with  a  woman's 
strong  undying  affection,  but  with  the  wild,  passionatrfer- 
vor  of  youth       I    must  have  inherited  my  dead  mother's 

We't  ttt'^  '"  "°  ''^™-P"^^^'  ''"^"'^  ^'^'  ^-^  ^el? 

Jy^\^'''^y'^'''^^^^-^^^y  Mendel  I  could  hardly  have 
be  eved  a  messenger  from  heaven  had  he  told  me  this  " 

God  be  merciful  to  human  error !     A  long  life  of  sorrow 
and  remorse  must  atone  for  that  first  rash  fault  " 

He  was  pacing  up  and  down   the  long  room  with  rapid 
excited  strides  ;  his  fine  face  flushed,  and  his  hands  tlghf; 
shut  as  If  to  keep  down  the  bitterness  that  rebelliously  rose 
at   this    unlooked-for   avowal.     He    had    expected  to  hear 

bTn  fa 'dlnV'l''"''  "^^"^'^'  ^^  ^  "^°^^''  imaginatbn 
the   womnn  h  T"'  T''''^''     No  man  likes  to  hear  tha 
MnnH  P^       K^'T'  ^'   ^""^^  ^°^^^    ^"other;    and  Lady 
!^fi!^:^>^.^f,?!^l^S  -,r^d  so  angelic  that  this  suddeJ 

the"bit?ernessof  ta^l^'^^'^^'  '^""^^^^  ""^  ^^  ^  P^"^  ^^^<^ 


:»n»fw*^'- 


.UMi.  4£,  iWiJ-     imLml 


68 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


IW; 


i» 


i: 
fffi 


And  therefore,  pacing  up  and  down — up  and  down,  with 
brain  and  heart  in  a  tumult — Lord  Ernest  Villiers'  pride  for 
one  moment  overcame  and  mastered  his  love.  For  one 
brief  moment  only — for  then  his  eyes  fell  on  the  drooping 
figure  and  despair-bowed  young  head ;  and  the  anguished 
attitude  went  to  his  heart,  bringing  back  a  full  tide  of  pity, 
love,  and  forgiveness.  All  was  forgotten,  but  that  she  was 
the  only  one  he  ever  did  or  could  love  ;  and  lifting  the 
sorrowing  head  and  grief-bowed  form  in  his  arms,  once  more 
he  clasped  her  closer  to  the  manly  young  heart  she  could 
feel  throbbing  under  her  own,  and  whispered : 

"  My  own  life's  darling  still !  Oh,  Maude  I  if  you  must 
grieve,  it  shall  be  on  my  breast.  If  you  have  erred,  so,  too, 
have  I— so  have  we  all  often.  I  will  forget  all  but  that  you 
have  promised  my  arms  shall  be  your  home  forever !  " 

"  And  you  forgive  and  love  me  still  ?     Oh,  Lord  Ernest  I  " 

He  kissed  away  her  tears  as  she  wept  aloud. 

"  One  thing  more,  dearest.  Who  was  my  Maude's  first 
love ! " 

He  felt  a  convulsive  shiver  run  through  the  delicate  form 
he  held.  He  felt  her  breast  heave  and  throb  as  if  the  name 
was  struggling  to  leave  it,  and  could  not. 

•'  Tell  me,  Maude,  for  I  must  know," 

"  Oh,  saints  in  heaven  !  how  can  I  ?  Oh,  Lord  Ernest ! 
this  humiliation  is  more  than  I  can  endure." 

'■  Speak,  Lady  Maude  I  for  I  must  know." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  full  of  unspeakable  anguish, 
and  then  dropped  her  head  heavily  again  ;  for  in  that  fixed, 
grave,  noble  face,  full  of  love  and  pity  as  it  was,  there  was 
no  yielding  now. 

"  Tell  me,  Maude,  who  was  the  husband  of  your  child- 
hood ?  " 

From  the  pale,  quivering  lip,  in  a  dying  whisper,  dropped 
the  words  :   "  Reginald  Germaine,  the  gipsy  1  " 

There  was  a  moment's  deathlike  silence.  The  handsome 
face  of  Lord  Ernest  Villiers  seemed  turned  to  marble,  and 
still  motionless  as  if  expiring,  she  lay  in  the  arms  that 
clasped  her  still  in  a  close  embrace.     At  last : 

"  Heaven  be  merciful  to  the  dead  1  Look  up,  my  pre- 
cious Maude  ;  for  nothing  on  earth  shall  ever  come  between 
us  more ! " 


II 


THE  SECRET  RE^^AI^ED. 


down,  with 

s'  pride  for 

For  one 

.e  drooping 

anguished 

ide  of  pity, 

at  she  was 

lifting  the 

once  more 

she  could 

you  must 
ed,  so,  too, 
ut  that  you 
er!" 
1  Ernest  1  " 

lude's  first 

licate  form 
f  the  name 


d  Ernest ! 

e  anguish, 
that  fixed, 
there  was 

our  child- 

r,  dropped 

handsome 
arble,  and 
irms   that 

I,  my  pre- 
e  between 


69 


Calm  and  clear,  on  the  troubled  wave  of  her  tempest-tossed 
soul,  the  low  words  fell ;  but  only  her  deep,  convulsive  sobs 
were  his  answer. 

"  Maude !-  -my  own  dear  Maude  1  "  he  cried,  at  last, 
alarmed  by  her  passion  of  grief,  "  cease  this  wild  weeping. 
Forget  the  troubled  past,  dear  love ;  for  there  are  many 
happy  days  in  store  for  us  yet." 

But  still  she  wept  on— wildly,  vehemently,  at  first — until 
her  strong  passion  of  grief  had  passed  away.  He  let  her 
sob  on  in  quiet  now,  with  no  attempt  to  check  her  grief, 
except  by  his  silent  caresses. 

She  lifted  her  head  and  looked  up,  at  last,  thanking  him 
by  a  radiant  look,  and  the  soft,  thrilling  clasp  of  her  white 
arms. 

"  I  will  not  ask  you  to  explain  now,  sweet  Maude,"  he 
softly  whispered.  "  Some  other  time,  when  you  are  more 
composed,  you  shall  tell  me  all." 

"  No— no ;  better  now— far  better  now  ;  and  then,  while 
life  lasts,  neither  you  nor  I,  Ernest,  will  ever  breathe  one 
word  of  the  dark  sorrowful  story  again.  Oh,  Ernest  I  can 
all  the  fondest  love  of  a  lifetime  suffice  to  repay  you  for  the 
forgiveness  you  have  shown  me  to-day?" 

"  I  am  more  than  repaid  now,  dear  love.  Speak  of  that 
no  more.  But  now  that  the  worst  is  over,  will  my  Maude 
tell  me  all  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  much  to  tell,  Ernest ;  but  you  shall  hear  it. 
Nearly  three  years  before  you  and  I  met,  when  a  child  of 
fourteen,  I  was  on  a  visit  to  my  uncle  Everly's.  My  cousin 
Hubert,  home  from  college,  brought  with  him  a  fellow- 
student  to  spend  the  vacation,  who  was  presented  to  me  as 
Count  Germaine.  What  Reginald  Germaine  was  then,  you, 
who  have  seen  him,  do  not  need  to  know.  Handsome, 
dashmg,  fascinating,  he  took  every  heart  by  storm,  winning 
love  by  his  gay,  careless  generosity,  and  respect  by  his 
talents  and  well-known  daring.  I  was  a  dreamy,  romantic 
school-girl ;  and  in  this  bold,  reckless  boy,  handsome  as  an 
angel,  I  saw  the  living  embodiment  of  my  most  glorious  ideal. 
From  morning  till  night  we  were  together;  and,  Ernest, 
can  you  understand  that  wild  dream  ?  How  I  loved  him 
then,  words  are  weak  to  express,  how  I  loathed  and  despised 
him  after  no  words  can  ever  tell.     Ernest,  he  persuaded  me 


•aiva 


70 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"I 


to  elope  with  hun  one  night ;  and  we  were  married.  I  never 
stopped  to  think  of  the  consequences  then.  I  only  knew  I 
would  have  given  up  my  hopes  of  heaven  for  him  I  Three 
weeks  longer  he  remained  at  Everly  Hall ;  and  then  papa 
sent  me  ba  V.  .0  school,  and  he  went  to  London. 

"  No  one  ^vas  in  our  secret,  and  we  met  frequently,  unsus- 
pected ;  th  Aigh  papa,  thinking  he  was  too  presuming,  had 
forbidden  me  to  associate  with  him.  One  day  we  went  cut 
driving ;  the  carriage  was  upset ;  I  fainted ;  and  for  a  Irng 
time  I  remembered  nothing  more. 

"  When  reason  returned,  I  was  in  a  little  cottage,  nui  :;ed 
by  an  old  woman ;  while  he  hovered  by  my  bed  ide  ni;,-'t 
and  day.  Then  I  learned  that  I  had  given  birth  to  a  child 
— dead  now  and  buried.  I  could  recollect  myself  as  people 
recollect  things  in  a  confused  dreun — of  iie::-ing  for  a  time 
the  feeble  cries  of  an  infant,  and  seeing  a  i/aby  face,  with 
the  large,  black,  beautiful  eyes  of  Reginald  Gen  .aine,  I 
turned  my  face  to  the  wall  and  wept,  at  first,  in  childish 
grief ,  but  he  caressed  arid  soothed  me,  and  I  sooi:  grew 
cahr.,  I  thoi!:.);i,  at  the  time,  a  strange,  unaccountable 
change  had  cou-a.  ovfjr  him  ;  though  I  could  not  tell  what. 
When  I  was  well  aguit-  I  learned.  Standing  before  me, 
one  morning,  he  c.'-n'y  auri  quietly  told  me  how  he  had 
deceived  me— thac,  iiKi.ead  of  being  a  French  count,  he  was 
the  son  of  a  strol'ing  gipsy;  but  that,  having  repented  of 
what  he  had  done,  he  was  willing  to  give  me  up. 

"  The  very  life  seemed  stricken  out  of  my  heart  as  I  list- 
ened. Then  my  pride— the  aroused  pride  of  my  race- 
arose  ;  and,  oh  I  words  are  weak  to  tell  how  I  loathed  my- 
self and  him.  That  I,  a  Percy— the  daughter  of  a  race  that 
had  mated  with  royalty  hitherto— had  fallen  so  low  as  to 
wed  a  gipsy  1  I  shrunk,  in  horror  unspeakable,  from  the 
black,  bottomless  quagmire  into  which  I  had  sunk.  All  my 
love  in  that  instant  turned  to  bitterest  scorn,  and  I  passion- 
ately bade  him  leave  me,  and  never  dare  to  come  near  me 
again,  or  breathe  a  word  of  the  past.  He  obeyed  ;  and 
from  that  day  I  never  beheld  him  more. 

"  After  that,  I  met  you.  Lord  Ernest,  and  I  loved  you  as 
I  never  loved  him.  For  him,  I  cherished  a  blind,  mad 
pas-.ion  ;  for  you,  I  felt  the  strong,  earnest  love  of  woman- 
hood.    You  loved  me  ;  but  I  shrunk  from  the  affection  my 


THE  SECRET  REVEAI^ED. 


71 


I  never 
y  knew  I 
!  Three 
len  papa 

ly,  unsus- 
ling,  had 
went  cut 
Dr  a  long 

e,  nursed 
de  night 

0  a  child 
iS  people 
)r  a  time 
ice,  with 
aine  I 
childish 

01;  grew 
oui!  table 
ell  what, 
fore  me, 
he  had 
,  he  was 
snted  of 

as  I  iist- 
r  race — 
led  niy- 
ace  that 
)w  as  to 
rom  the 
All  my 
passion- 
near  me 
^d  ;  and 

1  you  as 
id,  mad 
woman- 
tion  my 


very  soul  was  crying  out  for,  knowing  I  dared  not  love  you 
without  guilt.  Now  you  know  the  secret  of  my  coldness 
and  mysterious  melancholy.  "    • 

"  I  heard  often  of  Germaine ;  and  his  name  was  like  z 
spear-thrust  to  my  heart.  When  I  was  told  of  his  arrest, 
trial  and  condemnation  for  grand  larceny,  you  perhaps  may 
imagine,  but  I  can  never  tell,  exactly  what  I  felt.  His  name 
was  the  theme  of  every  tongue ;  and  day  after  day  I  was 
forced  to  listen  to  the  agonizing  details,  knowing— low  as 
he  had  fallen,  guilty  as  he  might  be— he  was  my  husband 
still.  Thank  God  I  through  all  his  ignominy,  he  had  honor 
enough  never  to  reveal  our  dark  secret.  Then  came  the 
news  of  his  death;  and  Heaven  forgive  me  if  my  heart 
bounded  as  I  heard  it ! 

"  Oh,  Lord  Ernest  I  you  were  my  first  thought.  I  felt  I 
could  dare  to  love  you  now  as  you  deserved  to  be  loved, 
without  sinning.  I  determined  to  tell  you  all,  and  to  love 
you  still,  even  though  you  spurned  me  from  you  forever. 
Oh,  Ernest !  my  noble-hearted  I  may  God  forever  bless  you 
for  forgiving  me  as  you  have  done,  and  loving  me  still  1  " 

Her  voice  ceased,  but  the  dark,  eloquent  eyes  were  full 
of  untold  love— of  love  that  could  never  die  for  all  time. 

"My  own  I— my  owni  never  so  well  beloved  as  nowl 
My  Maude  1— my  bride !— m«f  wife  1  blot  out  from  the  leaves 
of  your  hfe  that  dark  page— that  year  of  passion,  of  error, 
of  sorrow  and  shame.  We  will  never  speak  or  think  of  it 
more,  sweet  Maude.  Germaine  has  gone  to  answer  for 
what  he  has  done ;  if  he  has  sinned  while  living,  so  also  he 
has  deeply  suffered  and  sorrow-atoned  for  all.  Fier\'  pas- 
sionate and  impulsive,  if  he  has  wronged  others,  so  also  has 
he  been  deeply  wronged.     May  God  forgive  him  I  " 

"  Amen,"  was  the  solemn  response. 

"And  now,  Maude,  what  need  of  further  delay  ?  When 
shall  this  dear  hand  be  mine  ?  " 

wiii  Z^r^""^'  y°"  ^'^'"^  '^'  ^^^'  Ernest.     I  shall   have  no 
vo  ton   n^r".  "°''"  '^'  ""^^^^^d'  ^ith  all  a  woman's  d^ 
votion  in  her  deep  eyes,     "  I  am  yours-yo.rs  through  life 
and  beyond  death,  if  I  may."  mrougn  Jite, 


.-..-■^'i 


~t  I  i  wy         :aiva 


J2 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOVA 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  VOICE  OF  COMING  DOOM. 


.  "  They  spake  not  a  word. 

But  like  dumb  statues  or  breathless  stones, 
Stared  on  each  other  and  looked  deadly  pale." 

Shakspeare. 

"  Oh  I  positively,  your  ladyship  is  looking  perfectly  daz- 
zling I  I  never,  no,  never  saw  anybody  half  so  beautiful  in 
my  life  I  Oh,  Lady  Kate  !  isn't  she  charming  ?  "  And  little 
Miss  Clara  Jernynghani,  in  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm,  earn- 
estly clasped  her  little  white  hands,  flashing  with  jewels, 
together,  and  went  off  into  a  look  of  ecstasy  wonderful  to 
behold. 

Lady  Kate  McGregor,  the  proud,  dark-eyed  daughter  of 
an  impoverished  Scottish  nobleman,  smiled  quietly  as  she 
replied : 

"Lady  Maude  is  always  lovely,  and  like  all  brides,  looks 
doubly  so  now.  How  many  of  the  gentlemen  will  envy 
Lord  Villiers  to-night  1  " 

"Yes,  indeed  I"  exclaimed  Miss  Clara,  earnestly  "I 
am  quite  sure  if  I  was  a  man  (which,  thank  the  gods  I  I 
am  not),  I  would  be  tempted  to  shoot  him,  or  do  something 
else  equally  dreadful,  for  carrying  off  the  reigning  belle  !  I 
really  don't  see  how  any  man  in  his  proper  senses  could 
help  falling  in  love  with  Maude.  And  yet  there's  brother 
George,  now,  he  takes  it  as  coolly  as— as— I  don't  know 
what."     The  usual  fate  of  Miss  Clara's  similes. 

Had  Miss  Jernyngham's  eyes  not  been  so  earnestly  fixed 
on  a  certain  superb  set  of  diamonds  that  lay  on  a  dressing- 
table  near,  she  might  have  seen  a  sudden  flush  in  the  dark 
handsome  face  of  Lady  Kate  as  she  spoke,  and  that  the 
lace  on  her  bosom  fluttered  perceptibly,  as  if  with  the  beat- 
ing of  the  heart  beneath. 

"  So  Captain  Ternvncham  does  not  rar^  ?  "  ctjh  t  ^  j..  Tr.._ 
m  a  voice  not  quite  steady. 


« 


THE  VOICE  OF  COMING  DOOM. 


73 


A.RE. 

ictly  daz- 
autiful  in 
And  little 
sm,  earn' 
1  jewels, 
derful  to 

aghter  of 
y  as  she 

es,  looks 
vill  envy 

tiy.  "  I 
gods !  I 
)mething 
•elle !  I 
es  could 
i  brother 
I't  know 

itly  fixed 
iressing- 
he  dark, 
that  the 
he  beat- 


uy  jxiite, 


« 


"  No,"  answered  Miss  Clara,  her  eyes  dancing  from  the 
blinding  river  of  diamond-light  on  the  table  to  a  magnificent 
bridal  veil  lying  near— "no;  which  is  a  horrid  proof  of  his 
insensibility.  The  fact  is,  George  never  was  in  love  in  his 
life,  and  never  will  be,  so  far  as  I  can  see.  He  will,  most 
likely,  die  an  old  bachelor,  if  some  rich  heiress  does  not 
take  pity  on  him,  marry  him,  and  pay  his  debts,  before  long. 

Did  you  see  the  Duke  of  B this  evening,  though.  Lady 

Kate  ?  What  a  dear  old  creature  it  is  I  Going  about  shak- 
ing so,  like  a  lot  of  Mi/ic  mange.  I'm  going  to  marry  him 
some  day,  for  the  family  diamonds.     Worth  while,  eh  ?  " 

"  Miss  Jernyngham  is  herself  the  best  judge'  of  that," 
coldly  replied  Lady  Kate,  her  handsome  face  growing  proud 
and  pale,  as  she  listened  to  Miss  Clara's  speech  about  her 
brother. 

"  Really,  Lady  Maude,  it's  my  duty  to  tell  you  you  are 
looking  perfectly  bewildering  to-night,  as  all  brides  should 
look.  If  Lord  Villiers  had  never  been  in  love  with  you  be- 
fore, he  must  certainly  have  fallen  into  that  melancholy 
predicament  this  evening,"  said  little  Miss  Clara,  dancing 
off  on  a  new  tack.  "  This  orange  wreath  and  bridal  veil 
are  vastly  becoming.  I  am  sure  no  one  would  think  you 
had  been  ill  this  morning,  to  look  at  you  now." 

It  was  a  pleasant  scene  on  which  the  light  of  the  rose- 
shaded  chandelier  fell.  The  superbly-furnished  dressing- 
room  of  Lady  Maude  Percy  was  all  ablaze  with  numberless 
little  jets  of  flame,  which  the  immense  mirrors  magnified  four- 
fold. Priceless  jewels  lay  carelessly  strewn  about  on  the 
mlaid  dressing-table,  mingling  with  rare  bouquets,  laces, 
gloves,  and  tiny  satin  slippers,  that  would  scarcely  have 
fitted  Cinderella  herself.  Lady  Kate  McGregor,  proud 
and  stately,  in  white  satin,  and  point  lace,  and  pale,  delicate 
pearls,  stood  leaning  against  the  marble  mantel,  her  hand- 
some eyes  growing  cold  and  scornful  whenever  they  rested 
on  Miss  Clara  Jernyngham.  That  frivolous  little  lady, 
quite  bewildering  in  the  same  snowy  robes,  was  all  uncon- 
scious of  those  icy  glances,  as  she  fluttered,  like  a  butterfly 
over  a  rose,  around  another  lady  standing  before  a  full- 
length  mirror,  while  her  maid  arranged  the  mist  like  bridal 
veii  on  her  head,  and  set  the  orange  wreath  on  her  dark, 
shining  curls. 


^ 


r---«^ML^.,  ~~~jsm:.k  z.mn 


aiva 


74 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


It  was  Lady  Maude  Percy ;  and  this  was  her  bridal  ••»'«. 
Peerlessly  lovely  she  looked  as  she  stood  there,  wit*  t.h*i 
light  of  a  happy  heart  flushing  her  rounded  cheeks,  s\7<'.'lljng 
her  white  bosom,  and  flashing  from  her  dark,  Syrian  eyes. 
The  bridal  dress  she  wore  was  worth  a  duke's  ransom.  It 
fell  around  her  like  a  summer  cloud,  three  glistening  folds 
of  richest  lace,  so  light,  so  gauzy,  so  brilliant,  that  it  looked 
like  a  flashing  mist.  Diamonds  that  blinded  the  eyes  with 
their  insufferal'  hi   rose  and  fell  on  her  white  bosom 

with  every  tun: ii!i  la  arob  of  the  heart  beneath.  Like  a 
floating  cloud  fell  over  all  the  bridal  veil,  and  glittering 
above  it  ros*  the  orange  wreath  of  rarest  jewels.  There 
was  a  streaming  light  in  her  magnificent  eyes,  a  living, 
glowing  flush  on  her  cheek,  all  unusual  there;  and  little 
Miss  Clara  stood  up  and  clasneH  h' -  hands  as  she  gazed  in 
speechless  admiration. 

It  was  one  month  after  the  interview  recorded  in  the  last 
chapter.  Lord  Villiers,  with  a  lover's  impatience,  would 
consent  to  wait  no  longer ;  and  as  Lady  Maude  had  not 
opposed  him,  this  day  had  been  fixed.  The  marriage  was 
to  have  taken  place  at  St.  George's,  in  the  morning ;  but 
early  that  eventful  day  the  bride  had  been  seized  with  so 
severe  a  headache  that  she  was  unable  to  leave  her  room. 
Therefore,  the  ceremony  had  been  necessarily  delayed  until 

the  evening,  when  the  august  bishop  of  C himself  was 

to  come  and  perform  the  nuptial  rite  at  the  Percy  mansion. 
Some  were  inclined  to  look  upon  this  interruption  ''n  the 
light  of  an  evil  omen ;  but  Lady  Maude  only  smhed,  and 
inwardly  thought  that,  as  his  bride,  nothing  on  earth  could 
ever  dariven  her  life  more.  How  little  did  she  dream  of  the 
bitter  cup  of  sorrow  she  was  destined  yet  to  drain  to  the 
dregs!  How  little  did  she  dream  of  tit  dark,  scathing, 
unresting  revenge  that  hovered  around  r  like  a  vulture 
waiting  for  its  prey  1 

The  old  earl,  her  father,  who  was  soi.;ewhat  old-fashioned 
in  his  notion,'  and  liked  anci  nt  custcms  kept  up,  had  de- 
termined his  t.  ightei's  brida.  should  .^e  celebrated  by  the 
grandest  ball  of  the  season. 

"I  don't  like  'h'S  new-fangled  way  yoimg  people  nowa- 
days have,  of  eetting  married  ^  the  mornintr,  coming  home 
for  a  hasty  breakfast,  and  then  tearing  off7  pc",t  haste,  fo* 


THE  VOICE  OF  COMING  DOOM. 


75 


( 


nowa- 


France,  or  Germany,  or  somewhere,  as  if  they  wanted 
change  of  scene  to  reconcilf^  them  to  what  they  have  done," 
said  the  old  gentleman,  i  trict  confidence,  to  Lord  De 
Courcy.  "  It  wasn't  so  in  ,  time.  Then  we  had  all  our 
friends  assembled,  and  enj(  yed  ourselves  together  over  a 
bottle  or  two  of  old  wine  until  morning.  Ah  I  those  were 
the  days."  And  the  old  earl  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  looked 
ruefully  at  his  gouty  foot. 

Resolving,  therefore,  to  keep  up  those  halcyon  days  at  all 
hazards,  the  great  saloons  of  the  stately  hall  were  thrown 
open,  and  now  they  were  filled  with  the  elite  of  the  city,  all 
waiting  impatiently  for  the  coming  oi  the  bride. 

Lord  Hugh  De  Courcy,  suave,  stately,  courteous,  and 
bland,  was  there,  conversing  with  the  father  of  the  bride, 
and  two  or  three  of  the  most  distinguished  politicians  of  the 
day — his  eyes  now  and  then  wandering  Trom  the  faces  of 
his  friends,  to  rest  proudly  on  the  handsome  form  of  his 
son,  who,  in  the  absence  of  Lady  Maude,  was  the  cynosure 
of  all  eyes,  the  "  observed  of  all  observers." 

The  venerable  and  high-salaried  bishop,  attended  by 
several  other  "  journ*  man  soul-savers,"  as  Captain  George 
Jernyngham  irreverct.c.y  called  them,  was  there,  too,  in  full 
pontificals,  all  ready,  and  waiting  to  tie  the  Gordian  knot. 

The  rooms  were  filled  with  the  low  hum  of  conversation. 
There  were  waving  of  fans,  and  flirting  of  bouquets,  and 
dropping  of  handkerchiefs,  and  rustling  silks  and  satins, 
and  flashing  of  jewels,  and  turning  of  many  bright,  impa- 
tient eyes  towards  the  door  where  the  bride  and  her  attend- 
ants were  presently  expected  to  make  their  appearance. 
Ladies  coquetted,  and  flirted,  and  turned  masculine  heads 
with  brilliant  smiles  and  entrancing  glances,  and  gentlemen 
bowed  and  complimented,  and  talked  all  sorts  of  nonsense, 

St  like  gentlemen  in  general,  and  al'  things  went  "  merry 
I  marri.ifre-bell." 

Starring  by  themselves,  as  when  we  first  saw  them,  were 
Lord  Lrnest  Villiers  and  his  friend.  Captain  Jernyngham, 
of  the  Guards. 

Handsome,  stately,  and  noble,  Lord  Villiers  alway  'coked ; 
but  more  so  now  than  ever.  What  man  does  not  look  well 
■^yV>f>r>  Vjopny  fniiltles.s  in  costume  and  ab'-at  to  1''  married 
to  the  woman  he  loves  ? 


i,^mi/mmm^ffM 


'SrslCl;  'WJWL! 


•31  vn 


76 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


*! 


Captain  Jernyngham,  first  groomsman,  etc.,  was  also  look- 
irig  remarkably  well— a  fact  of  which  the  young  gentleman 
himself  was  well  aware ;  and  lounging  in  his  usual  listless 
attitude  against  a  marble  column,  he  languidly  admired  his 
aristocratically  small  foot  in  its  shining  boot. 

"  There  are  some  men  born  to  good  luck,  just  as  others 
are  born  to  be  hanged  "—he  was   saying,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  delivering  an   oration—"  born  with  a  silver   spoon  in 
their  mouths,  to  use  a  common,  but  rather  incredible  figuie 
of  speech.     You,   w/  /or  Villiers,  are  one    of  them  ;    you 
were  born  above  the  power  of  Fortune— consequently,  the 
toadying  jade  shows  you  a  face   all  smiles,  and  gives  the 
cold  shoulder  to   i  ;or  devils  like  mv.  who  really  stand  in 
need  of  her  good  graces.     This  world's  a  humbug !     Vir- 
tuous  poverty,  illustr.ited  in  the  person  of   Captain  George 
Jernyngham,  is  snubbed  and  sent  to  Coventry,  while  potent, 
rich,  and  depraved  youths  like  you  are  borne  along  on  beds 
of  rose.v     Yes,  I  repeat  it,  the  world's  a  humbug  1  society's 
a  nuisance!  friendship's  a  word  of  two   syllables   found  in 
dictionaries,  nowhere  else  I  and  cigars,  kid  gloves  and  pale 
ale  are  the  only  th'uyr^  worth  living  for.     There's  an  '  opin- 
ion as  is  an  opinion.'  " 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Jernyngham !  things  are  by  no  means 
so  desperate  as  you  would  have  me  believe,"  said  Lord 
Villiers,  laughin^^  "  Young,  good-looking,  and  adored  by 
the  ladies,  what  more  would  you  h.nve  .^  " 

"  Well,  there  is  a  vulgar  prejudice  existing  in  favor  of 
bread  and  butter,  and  neither  of  the  three  items  mentioned 
wdl   exactly  supply  me  with  thnt   useful  article.     I   intend 
trying  the  matrimonial  dodge,  some  day,  if  I  can   pick  up 
anything  under  fifty,  with  three  or  four  thousand  a  year, 
who  wants  a  nice  youth  to  spend  it  for  her." 
"  Love,  of  course,  being  out  of  the  question." 
"  Love  I  "  said  the  guardsman,  contemptuously,     "  I  lost 
all  faith  in  that  article  since  I  was  fourteen  years  old,  when 
I  fell  in  love  with  our  cook,  a  young  lady  of  six-and-thirty. 
My  father  forbade  the  banns  ;  she  ran   off  with  a  hump- 
backed chimney-sweep,  and  I  awoke  to  the  unpleasant  con- 
sciousness that '  Love's  young  dream  '  was  all  bosh." 
"  And  you  have  been  heart  whole  ever  since  ?  " 
"  Well,  I  rather  think  so.     I  have  felt  a  peculiar  sensa- 


THE  VOICE  OF  COMING  DOOM. 


77 


tlon  under  my  vest-pocket  now  and  then,  when  Kate  Mc- 
Gregor's black  eyes  met  mine.  But  pshaw  I  where's  the 
use  of  talking  ?  bhe's  as  poor  as  a  church-mouse,  and  so 
am  I ;  and,  unless  we  should  set  up  a  chandler-shop,  there 
would  be  a  paragraph  in  the  Times  headed  :  '  Melancholy 
death  by  starvation.  The  bodies  of  an  unfortune  couple 
were  found  yesterday  in  the  attic  of  a  rickety,  six-story 
house,  and  the  coroner's  inquest  returned  a  verdict  of 
'•  Death  for  want  of  something  to  eat."  The  unfortunate 
man  was  dressed  in  a  pair  of  .spurs  and  a  military  shako- 
having  pawned  the  rest  of  his  clothing,  and  held  in  his 
hand  the  jugular  bone  of  a  red  herring  half-devoured.'  Not 
any,  thank  you  1  " 

Captain  GQax^n^  stroked  his  mustache  complacently,  while 
Lord  Villiers  laughed. 

"  A  pleasant  picture  that  I  Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
it's  what  '  love  in  a  cottage  '  often  comes  to." 

A  servant  approached  at  this  moment,  and  whispered 
something  to  Lord  Villiers. 

"  The  ladies  are  waiting,  Jernyngham,"  he  said  hastily. 
"  Call  Howard,  and  come  along." 

He  hastened  out  to  the  lofty  hall,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
grand  staircase  he  was  joined  by  Jcrnygham  and  Howard, 
the  second  groomsman,  Lord  De  Courcy,  Earl  Percy  and  a 
few  other  intimate  family  friends. 

The  bride  and  her  attendants  had  already  left  her  "  maiden 
bower,'"  and  Lady  Maude  was  met  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
by  Lord  Villiers,  who  (licw  her  arm  within  his,  and  whis- 
pered, in  a  thrilling  voice  : 

"  My  bride  1  my  wife  1  my  queen  1  my  beautiful  Maude ! 
never  so  beautiful  as  now  I     Mine,  mine  forever  1  " 

"  Yes,  yours  forever  1  "  she  softly  and  earnestly  said, 
looking  up  in  his  face  with  a  joy  too  intense  for  smiles. 

There  was  no  time  for  further  speech.  Captain  Jernyng- 
ham had  drawn  the  willing  hand  of  the  proud  Kate  within 
his  arm,  and  felt  his  heart  throb  in  a  most  unaccountable 
manner  beneath  her  light  touch.  Young  Howard  took 
possession  of  our  gay  Miss  Clara,  whose  whole  heart  and 
soul  was  bent  on  the  conquest   she  was  about  to  make  of 

that  '■  dear,  old  thing,"  the  Duke  of  B ,  and  the  bridal 

(orte^e  passed  mto  the  grand,  liower-strewn  saloon. 


ism-wwjwij 


-my/a 


78 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


The  company  parted  on  either  side  as  they  advanced,  and 
under  the  battery  of  many  hundred  eyes  they  approached 
the  bishop.  Book  in  hand,  that  reverend  personage  stood, 
patiently  awaiting  their  coming,  and  looked  approvingly 
over  his  spectacles  at  the  beautiful  bride  and  nandsome, 
stately  bridegroom  as  they  stood  up  before  him. 

And  then,  amid  the  profoundest  silence,  the  marriage 
ceremony  was  begun. 

You  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop,  so  deep  was  the  still- 
ness that  reigned— as  every  one  held  their  breath  to  catch 
each  word  of  that  most  interesting  of  rites— doubly  inter- 
esting to  ladies.  Of  the  three  standing  before  him,  one 
heart  was  beating  with  a  joy  too  deep  and  intense  for  words 
to  tell.  Lady  Kate's  handsome  eyes  stole  quick  glances 
now  and  then  at  the  gay,  young  guardsman,  as  she  thought, 
with  a  thrilling  heart,  how  much  she  could  love  him,  but 
for  the  humiliation  of  loving  unsought.  Little  Miss  Clara, 
^yith  her  head  poised  on  one  side,  and  her  finger  on  her 
lip,  was  building  a  castle  in  Spain,  where  she  saw  herself 
blazing     with     "  family    diamonds,"    and    addressed    as 

"  Duchess  of  B ."     As  for  the  gentlemen,  I  don't  intend 

describing  their  sensation — never  having  been  a  gentleman 
myself  (more's  the  pity  I)  but  will  leave  it  to  the  imagination 
of  my  readers. 

The  last  "I  will"  had  been  uttered;  and  amid  that 
breathless  silence  Ernest  Seyton,  Viscount  Villiers,  and 
Maude  Percy  were  pronounced  man  and  wife. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause,  and  the  guests  were  about 
to  press  forward  to  offer  their  congratulations,  when  pealing 
through  the  silence  came  an  unseen  voice,  in  clear,  bell-like 
tones  that  thrilled  every  heart,  with  the  words : 

"  An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  and  a  life  for  a 
life  I  My  curse,  and  the  curse  of  Heaven  rest  on  all  of  the 
house  of  De  Courcy  !  " 

Blanched  with  wonder,  horror  and  consternation,  every 
face  was  turned  in  the  direction  whence  the  voice  came ;  but 
nothing  was  to  be  seen.  So  sudden,  so  unlocked  for  was 
this  awful  interruption;  so  terrific  was  that  deep,  hollow 
voice,  that  the  shrieks  they  would  have  uttered  were  frozen 
to  the  lips  of  the  terrified  women.  And  while  thev  still 
stood  speechless,  horror-struck,  gazing  in  silence,  the  'deep, 


and 


THE  VOICE  OF  COMING  DOOM. 


79 


direful  voice  pealed  again  through  the  silent  apartment  like 

the  knell  of  doom. 

"  As  the  rich  man  who  stole  the  one  ewe-lamb  was  ac- 
cursed so  also  be  all  who  bear  the  name  of  De  Courcy ! 
May  their  bridal  robes  turn  to  funeral-palls  1  may  their  hours 
of  rejoicing  end  in  blackest  misery  1  Blighted  be  their  lives  ! 
doomed  be  all  they  love— hated  by  earth,  and  accursed  by 

Heaven  1 "  ,    i  .i  u  *u 

The  voice  ceased.  A  wild  shriek  resounded  through  the 
room  and  the  bride  fell  fainting  on  the  ground. 

In  an  instart  all  was  confusion.  Ladies  shrieked  and 
screamed ;  servants  came  rushing  in ;  gentlemen,  pale  and 
horror-struck,  hurried  hither  and  thither  in  wildest  confusion. 
All  was  uproar  and  dismay.  Lord  Villiers,  with  his  sense- 
less bride  in  his  arms,  was  struggling  to  force  his  way  from 
the  room  ;  and  then  high  above  the  din  resounded  the  clear, 
commanding  voice  of  Earl  De  Courcy : 

"  Let  all  be  ouiet  1  There  is  no  danger  1  Secure  the 
doors,  and  look  for  the  intruder.  This  is  the  trick  of  some 
evil-minded  person  to  create  a  sensadon." 

His  words  broke  the  spell  of  superstitious  terror  that 
botjnd  them.  Every  one  flew  to  obey— guests,  servants  and 
all.  Each  room  was  searched— every  corner  and  crevice 
was  examined.  If  a  pin  had  been  lost,  it  must  have  been 
found ;  but  they  searched  in  vain.  The  owner  of  the  mys- 
terious voice  could  not  be  discovered. 

Looking  in  each  other's  faces,  white  with  wonder,  they 
gave  up  the  fruitless  search,  and  returned  to  the  saloon. 

Like  a  flock  of  frightened  birds,  the  ladies,  pale  with  mor- 
tal apprehension,  were  huddled  together— not  daring  even 
to  speak.  In  brief,  awe-struck  whispers  the  result  was  told  ; 
and  then,  chill  with  apprehension,  the  guests  began  rapidly 
to  disperse.  And  in  less  than  an  hour  the  stately  house  of 
Maude  Percy  was  wrapt  in  silence,  solitude  and  gloom. 
The  bride,  surr  'unded  by  her  attendants,  lay  still  unconscious, 
while  all  over  London  the  news  was  spreading  of  the  appal- 
ling termination  of  the  wedding. 


deep, 


«»fai»ry:;;; 


T 


:^ivn 


I-/ 


>      r 

i   i 


80 


the;  gypsy  QUEEN'S  vow. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LITTLE    ERM INI E. 

"  Sleep,  little  baby,  sleep, 
Not  in  thy  cradle  bed. 
Not  on  thy  mother's  breast, 
But  with  the  quiet  dead." 

— Mrs.  Southey. 

Into  the  great  dark  gulf  of  the  Past,  nearly  two  years 
ike   two    waves   from    an    ever-flowing  sea,  had  vanished! 
freighted  with  their  usual  modicum  of  sorrow,  joy,  happiness 
and  despair.  •-  ^       r-r         > 

And  what  changes  had  those  two  years  brought  to  the 
various  personages  connected  with  our  tale  ? 

First,  Mr.  O.   C.    Toosypegs,  in  whom  I  hope  my  fair 
readers  feel  an  interest,  had  closed  the  eyes  of  his  rich  uncle 
pocketed  two  thousand  pounds,  attired  himself  in  the  ver;^ 
deepest  weeds,  and  began  to  turn  his  thoughts  toward  Dis- 
mal Hollow,  and  all  "  the  real  nice  people  around  there." 

Miss  Clara  Jernynham   had  obtained  the  desire  of  her 

'  ffmil  i-'"'  Tm"^^'''  ^'^^^  °f  ^•'"  -"d,  blazing  in 
family  diamonds,"  was  toasted  as  one  of  the  reigning 
be^auties  and  belles  of  the  London  Aauf  ton.  As  to  thaf 
dear  old  thing,"  the  duke,  the  pretty  little  duchess  troubled 
her  head  very  httle  about  him;  and  he  was  left  at  home,  to 
r.Wh  '^'"i^^^^^.^'th  alternate  fits  of  the  palsy  and  gout. 
and  the  other  diseases  old  gentlemen  are  heir  to.  ' 

Captain  George  Jernyngham  had  risen  to  the  rank  of 
coionei,  now,  having  been  promoted  for  his  bravery  in  a 
certain  action  ;  and  an  old  uncle,  whom  he  had  hardly  heard 
01  Detore,  coming  at  the  same  time  from  tlie  East  Indies 
with  an  uncountable  lot  of  money,  and  the  liver  disease 
was  accommodating  enough  to  die  in  the  nick  of  time,  leav- 
ing ah  uis  wealth  to  our  gay  guardsman.     These  two  strokes 


LITTLE  ERMINIE. 


8l 


of  good  fortune  enabled  Master  George  to  offer  his  hand, 
with  a  safe  conscience,  to  handsome  Lady  Kate,  which  he 
did,  without  even  hinting  at  such  a  thing  as  a  chandler's 
shop.  Lady  Kate  showed  her  good  taste  in  the  selection  of 
a  husband,  by  accepting  him  on  the  spot ;  and  two  weeks 
after,  the  Times,  under  the  heading  of  "  Marriage  in  High 
Life,"  announced  the  melancholy  fact  that  Colonel  Jernyng- 
ham  was  a  bachelor  no  longer. 

Of  the  gipey  Ketura,  nothing  was  known.  Now  and  then, 
at  intervals,  Earl  De  Courcy  would  catch  a  glimpse  of  a 
dark,  wild  face,  with  streaming  hair,  and  hollow,  sunken 
eyes,  flitting  after  him  like  a  haunting  shadow  from  the 
grave.  Wherever  he  went,  night  or  day,  that  dusky,  omi- 
nous shadow  followed,  dogging  his  steps  like  a  sleuth-hound, 
until  the  dread  of  it  grew  to  be  a  horror  unspeakable — the 
vague,  mysterious  terror  of  his  life.  No  precautions  could 
rid  him  of  it,  until  it  became  the  very  bane  of  his  existence. 
If  he  walked,  looking  over  his  shoulder  he  would  see  that 
tall,  spectral  figure  coming  after ;  if  he  sat  in  his  carriage, 
and  it  chanced  to  stop  for  a  moment,  a  white,  wild  face,  with 
great  burning  eyes,  would  gleam  in  upon  him  for  an  instant 
with  deadly  hate  and  menace  in  every  feature,  and  then  van- 
ish like  a  face  from  the  dead.  Neither  night  or  day  was  he 
safe  from  his  terrible  pursuer,  until  the  dread  of  this  ghostly 
ghoul  wore  the  very  flesh  off  his  bones,  reduced  him  to  a 
mere  living  skeleton,  poisoned  every  joy  of  his  existence, 
made  death  and  life  a  blank  and  a  horror,  until  the  birth  of 
his  little  granddaughter.  And  the  only  tender  feeling  in  his 
stony  heart  centered  in  her ;  she  became  the  only  thing  that 
rendered  life  desirable.  His  love  for  the  child  amounted 
to  idolatry  ;  in  its  infant  innocence  and  beauty,  it  seemed 
like  a  protecting  angel  between  him  and  his  terrible  pursuer, 
lighting  the  gloom  of  that  awful  haunting  shadow  with  the 
brightness  of  unseen  wings. 

The  last  cold  gleam  of  yellow  sunshine  faded  from  the 
dull  March  sky.  Night,  with  black,  starless,  moonless  face, 
with  cold,  piercing  wind  and  sleet,  wc3  falling  over  Lon- 
don. 

The  gorgftous  rooms,  the  glittering  salons,  the  spacious 
halls  of  the  De  Courcy  mansion  were  one  blaze  of  light  and 
magnificence,  just  as  they  were  that  very  night  two  years 


:  I  wa 


82 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I 

■  '  ■? 


before— that  awful  night  of  darkest  doom.  By  all  but  one 
that  night  was  forgotten  now ;  for  a  gay  family-party  were 
to  meet  to  celebrate  the  first  birthnight  of  Lord  DeCourcy's 
grandchild.  Strange,  that  on  the  very  anniversary  of  that 
dreadful  night,  another  scion  should  be  born  to  the  house 
of  De  Courcy. 

The  guests  had  not  yet  begun  to  assemble  ;  and  stand- 
ing by  himself,  wrapt  in  gloomy  thought,  the  earl  gazed 
darkly  out  into  the  deepening  night.  You  would  scarcely 
have  known  him,  so  changed  had  he  grown  by  the  blighting 
miluence  of  that  horrible  incubus.  Thin  and  haggard,  with 
sunken  eyes,  projecting  brows,  snow-white  hair  and  care- 
worn look,  he  stood  the  very  shadow  of  his  former  self— a 
stricken,  bowed,  gloomy  old  man. 

Through  the  inky  darkness  the  rays  from  the  street-lamp 
sent  long  lines  of  light  and    shade  across   the  pavement 
That   very   night,    two  years     before,    a   face,    white   with 
woman's  utmost  woe,  had  gleamed   upon  him   in   that  very 
light,  as  he  stood  in  that  self-same   spot.     He  thought  of  it 
now  with  a  convulsive  shudder  ;  and  the  flickering    light 
seemed   like   a  finger   of  blood-red    flame   pointing   up   to 
heaven,   and  invoking  its  wrath   upon    him.     With  an  in- 
ward presentiment  he  looked  through  the  darkness  as  if  ex- 
pecting that  same  dark,  unearthly  face  to  appear  ;  and,  lo  ! 
while  he  gazed,  as  if  she  had  sprung  up  through  the  earth, 
a  tall,  shadowy  figure  emerged  from  the  darkness,  and  that 
awful  spectral  face,  he  dreaded  more  than  that  of  the  arch 
fiend  himself,  gleamed  white  and  awful  through  the  gloom 
She  beheld  him  there  in  the    light,  and  again  that  long 
bony  arm  was  raised,  and  that  flickering  finger  pointed  up 
to  the  lowering  sky   above,    in   darkest,  voiceless  menace. 
Then,  flitting  away  in  the  darkness,  to  which  she  seemed  to 
belong,  the  ghastly  vision  was  gone,  and  Earl   De  Courcy 
stood  frozen  with  horror  to  the  spot,  unable  to  speak  or 
move. 

At  that  same  hour,  a  far  pleasanter  scene  was  going  on 
in  one  of  the  rooms  above. 

It  was  the  dressing-room  of  Lady  Maude,  into  which  we 
once  before  introduced  the  reader.  Once  again  she  stood 
before  the  mirror  while  her  maid  assisted  at  her  toilet,  and 
chatted  with  the  little  Duchess  of  B.,  who,  magnificent  in 


LITTLE  ERMINIE. 


83 


II  but  one 
party  were 
e  Courcy's 
iry  of  that 
the  house 

nd  stand- 
arl  gazed 
1  scarcely 
:  blighting 
2^ard,  with 
and  care- 
er self — a 

reet-lamp 
lavement, 
hite  with 
that  very 
ught  of  it 
ing  light 
ig  up  to 
th  an  in- 
'  as  if  ex- 

and,  lo ! 
he  earth, 
and  that 
the  arch 
e  gloom, 
[lat  long, 
inted  up 
menace, 
semed  to 

Courcy 
speak  or 

going  on 

ifhich  we 
le  stood 
lilet,  and 
ficent  in 


white  velvet  and  emeralds,  sat  (or  rather  lay)  half-buried  in 
the  downy  depths  of  a  lounge — having  taken  advantage  of 
her  girlhood's  intimacy  with  Lady  Maude  to  come  early, 
and  indulge  in  what  she  phrased  the  "  sweetest  of  talks," 
before  she  should  descend  to  the  drawing-room,  and  begin 
her  nightly  occupation  of  breaking  masculine  hearts. 

Very  fair,  very  sweet,  very  lovely  looked  Lady  Maude,  as 
she  stood  there  with  a  soft  smile  on  her  gentle  lips,  and  a 
calm,  deep  joy  welling  from  the  brooding  depths  of  her  soft 
dark  eyes. 

Her  dress  was  white,  even  as  it  had  been  that  night — 
white  blonde  over  white  satin — with  her  favorite  jewels 
(pale  oriental  pearls)  wreathing  her  shining  ringlets  of  jet, 
and  fluttering  and  shimmering  in  sparks  of  subdued  fire  on 
her  white  arms  and  bosom.  The  lovely  young  face  looking 
out  from  those  silky  curls  was  sweeter  and  fairer  now  in 
her  gentle  maturity  than  it  had  ever  been  in  the  brilliant 
beauty  of  her  girlhood.  Scarcely  twenty,  her  form  had  not 
attained  the  roundness  of  perfect  womanhood,  but  was 
slight  and  slender  as  a  girl  of  fourteen,  yet  perfect  in  its 
elegant  contour. 

"  And  the  baby  is  well  ?  "  the  duchess  was  languidly  say- 
ing, as  she  played  with  a  beautiful  little  water-spaniel. 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,"  replied  the  low,  sweet  voice  of 
Lady  Maude,  with  her  soft,  musing  smile. 

"  I  need  not  ask  for  his  lordship,  for  I  saw  him  last  night 
at  the  bal  masque  of  Madame  la  Comtesse  De  St.  Rimy  I  " 
said  the  duchess,  with  some  animation.  "  He  was  looking 
quite  kingly  as  '  Leicester.'  By  the  way,  Lady  Maude,  why 
were  you  not  there  ?  " 

"  Erminie  seerued  slightly  indisposed,  I  fancied,  and  I 
would  not  leave  her,"  answered  the  young  mother. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  Well,  I  am  very  fond  of  children  ;  bi?* 
I  do  not  think  I  could  give  up  so  brilliant  an  affair  as  last 
night's  masquerade  even  for  such  a  sweet  little  angel  as  Er- 
minie. What  do  you  think,  I  made  a  complete  conquest  of 
that  handsome  melancholy  Turkish  ambassador,  who  is  all 
the  rage  now !  I  had  him  all  to  myself  the  whole  even- 
ing 1 " 


Was  his 


gravely 


grace 


present  ? 


T  -,H' 


Maude,  a   little 


.v.,-#- 


.-2L,- 


ETi« 


Ed 


84 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


The  question  took  the  little  duchess  so  much  by  surprise, 
that  she  raised  herself  on  her  elbow,  opened  her  blue  eyes 
to  their  widest  extent,  and  stared  in  silence  at  her  ques- 
tioner. Then,  seeing  Lady  Maude  was  quite  serious,  she 
lay  back  among  the  velvet  pillows,  and  burst  into  a  silvery 
peal  of  laughter. 

"  His  grace  I  Oh,  that  is  too  good  I  Why,  Lady  Maude, 
the  last  time  I  saw  the  poor,  dear,  old  man,  which  is  a  week 
or  two  ago,  he  could  not  stir  either  hand  or  foot,  and  had 
to  be  carried  about  by  that  odious  Italian  valet  of  his,  in  a 
chair,  whenever  he  wanted  to  move.  The  dear,  helpless 
old  thing  1  he  did  look  so  old  and  so  absurd,  shaking  all 
over  with  that  disagreeable  palsy  of  his,  that  I  could  not 
bear  to  go  into  his  room  since.  My  maid,  Fanchette,  al- 
ways finds  out  how  he  is,  and  telis  me.  But  the  idea  of  his 
going  to  the  masquerade !     Oh,  dear  me  I  " 

And  the  affectionate  wife  went  off  into  another  low,  musi- 
cal peal  that  made  the  pretty,  soft-eyed  water-spaniel  shake 
his  necklace  of  tiny  silver  bells  from  sympathy,  till  they 
tingled  again.  < 

Lady  Maude  looked  as  she  felt— a  little  shocked— at  this 
heartless  levity ;  and  madame  la  duchesse  perceivin-^  it,  be- 
gan: 

"  Now,  Maude,  there  is  no  use  in  your  looking  so  pro- 
foundly scandalized  about  it,  because  I  have  done  nothing 
so  very  naughty.  You  don't  expect  me  to  go  and  shut  my- 
self up,  and  nurse  him— do  you  ?  Though  I  dare  say  you, 
having  the  elements  of  a  martyr  in  you,  would  do  it  just  as 
soon  as  not !  " 

"  I  would  not  flirt  with  that  Turkish  ambassador,  at  all 
events  !  "  said  Lady  Maude,  in  a  tone  of  slight  rebuke. 
"  Have  you  not  heard  he  has  four  wives  already  ?  " 

"Perhaps  he  thinks  I'll  make  a  fifth  some  day!  "said 
the  duchess,  laughing.  "  Well,  I  wouldn't  mind  much  ;  he 
is  handsome  enough  for  anything.  There  I  I  knew  I  would 
shock  you  again.  How  saintly  you  have  grown  of  late. 
Maude  !  " 

"  Oh,  Clara  I— Clara  1  what  a  mad  little  flirt  you  are  I  " 
said  Lady  Maude,  half-smiling— half  sorrowful. 


dog 


Well,  you 
this  is  ! 


see   it's 
I  made 


my 


^c  -  i:«.i.i 


nature.     What 
a  mariage  de  convenance ;  and  what 


LITTLE  ERMINIE. 


85 


T  surpnse, 
blue  eyes 
her  ques- 
rious,  she 
a  silvery 

y  Maude, 
is  a  week 
and  had 
his,  in  a 
,  helpless 
aking  all 
;ould  not 
;hette,  al- 
ea  of  his 

3w,  musi- 

iel  shake 

till  thev 

— at  this 
ng  it,  be- 
so  pro- 
nothing 
shut  my- 
say  you, 
t  just  as 

>r,  at  all 
rebuke. 

r  I  "  said 

uch  ;  he 

I  would 

of  late, 

u  are  1  " 


f 

nd  what 


■3    '•t'-fls. 


other  result  could  you  anticipate  ?  I  married  the  Duke  of 
B.  for  his  coronet ;  he  married  me  because  he  wanted  some 
one  to  nurse  him,  and  poultice  up  his  constitution,  and  sit 
at  the  head  of  his  table,  and  make  herself  generally  useful. 
I  got  what  I  aimed  at ;  and  if  he  has  not,  it  shows  I  am  the 
better  politician  of  the  two.  Stand  upon  your  hind-legs, 
Prince  1  And,  therefore,  oh,  wise  and  discreet  Lady  Vil- 
!■  ^rs  1  model  wife  and  happy  mother,  you  must  not  expect 
one  who  is  neither  to  do  otherwise  than  as  she  dues.  If 
my  sole  earthly  happiness  consists  in  a  '  coach-and-four,' 
superb  diamonds,  an  unlimited  number  of  lovers,  and  a  box 
at  the  opera,  why,  I  rather  think  I  should  be  permitted  to 
enjoy  them,  since  I  am  really  not  a  bad  girl  after  all,  and 
never  mean  to  be.  And  now,  as  your  toilet  is  completed, 
and  I  have  made  quite  a  long  speech,  will  your  ladyship  be 
good  enough  to  lead  the  way  to  the  nursery  ?  I  want  to  see 
this  little  stray  angel  of  yours  before  I  descend  among  the 
sinners  below." 

Smiling,  and  passing  her  arm  around  the  skader  waist  of 
the  thoughtless  little  duchess.  Lady  Maude  passed  with  her 
from  the  room,  and  the  two  young  girls  entered  the  nur- 
sery. 

It  was  a  beautiful  room,  ali  draped  in  white  and  pale- 
green,  pure  and  peaceful  as  a  glimpse  of  heaven.  And  in 
the  center  of  the  room  stood  a  little  rosewood  crib,  with 
snowy  hangings,  wherein  lay  a  young  infant,  so  surpassingly 
lovely  that  the  duchess  might  well  call  it  a  "  stray  angel." 

Little  Erminie — sweet  Erminie — the  child  of  noble,  princely 
Lord  Villie^s  and  beautiful  Maude  Percy — how  shall  I  de- 
scribe her?  Vi ':)  not  often  young  babies  are  really  pretty 
— doting  granaiiM-immas  and  aunties  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding ;  but  this  one  really  was.  A  snow-white  com- 
plexion, with  the  softest  pink  tia^e  on  the  rounded  cheeks 
and  lips,  as  faint  and  delica!-^  as  the  heart  of  a  sea-shell;  a 
profusion  of  palest  golden  hri--  falK-ig  in  slight,  rippling 
waves,  like  raveled  silk,  on  t,,  white,  rounded  forehead. 
Two  tiny  blue-veined  hands  gr^^ped,  even  in  sleep,  a  pretty 
French  doll,  holding  it  close  to  the  soft,  white  bosom,  and 
tlie  long,  golden  lashes  lay  brightly  on  the  rosy,  sleep-flushed 
chucks. 

The  lovely  face  of  Lady  Maude  flushed  with  pride,  love 


I 


iHSonr 


imLym 


86 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i 


|3t 


2^: 

14'' 


and  happiness ;  and  bending  down,  softly  as  the  west  wind 
kisses  the  sleeping  flowers,  her  lips  touched  the  babe's. 

Light  as  the  caress  was,  it  awoke  little  Erminie.  The 
golden  lashes  slowly  lifted,  and  a  pair  of  sweet  blue  eyes 
looked  fearlessly  up. 

"  Mamma,"  she  cried,  joyfully,  holding  up  her  rosy  little 
arms,  "  mamma,  tate  Minnie." 

••  Oh,  the  little  darling  I  "  exclaimed  the  duchess,  catch- 
ing her  impulsively  up,  and  half-smothering  her  with  kisses. 
"  Oh,  did  you  ever  see  such  a  sweet  little  cherub  ?  Oh, 
there  never  was  such  a  lovely  little  angel  1  It's  just  the 
sweetest,  dearest,  b'essed,  tidsy  ickle  sing  that  ever  was,  so 
it  is  1 " 

Baby,  who  evidently  was  an  adept  in  broken  English,  and 
fully  understood  that  profoundly-mysterious  language  known 
as  "  baby-talk,"  immediately,  as  if  in  reward  for  these  ex- 
clamatory sentences,  emphasized  by  the  strongest  italics, 
held  up  her  rosy  little  mouth  to  be  kissed  again,  being  evi- 
dently (like  all  of  her  sex)  fond  of  that  operation. 

"  Oh,  I  never  never,  saw  such  a  perfectly  lovely  little 
duck  1  "  exclaimed  the  Duchess  Clara,  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
enthusiasm.  "  Such  sweet  hair,  and  such  splendid  eyes  1 
Who  does  she  look  like,  Maude?     Not  like  you,  I'm  sure." 

"  She  has  her  father's  blue  eyes  and  fair  hair,"  said  the 
happy  young  mother,  smiling  at  Clara's  emphasis,  which 
rendered  every  other  word  not  only  into  italics,  but,  in  some 
cases,  even  into  capitals. 

"  Oh,  she  is  the  most  charming  little  ducks  o'  diamonds  I 
ever  beheld  in  my  life  1  Such  a  beautiful  skin,  just  like 
white  satin !  "  reiterated  the  duchess,  punctuating  her  re- 
marks by  a  series  of  short,  sharp  little  kisses,  that  made 
sweet  Erminie  open  her  large  blue  eyes  in  subdued  wonder. 
**  Oh,  Maude  I  I  don't  wonder  you  are  so  saintly,  with  this 
little  beautiful  seraph  ever  with  you  1  Sweet  little  angel 
Erminie  1  thou  almost  persuadest  me  to  be  a  Christian  1  " 

There  was  a  soft  tap  at  the  door,  and  the  nurse,  who  had 
hitherto  remained  in  the  back-ground,  and  listened  with 
professional  stoicism  to  these  raptures,  went  and  opened  it ; 
and  Lord  Villiers  entered. 

He  started  in  some  surprise,  as  he  beheld  how  the  room 


LITTLE  ERMINIE. 


87 


tne  room 


was  tenanted,  and  then  advanced  with  a  smile.  Lady 
Maude,  with  more  than  the  adoring  love  of  two  years  before, 
went  over,  and,  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  said  : 

"  Clara  wanted  to  see  Erminie  before  we  descended  to  the 
drawing-room,  dearest  Ernest,  and  has  fallen  even  more 
deeply  in  love  with  her  than  she  has  with  the  Turkish  am- 
bassador, the  fortunate  possessor  of  the  interestingly  melan- 
choly dark  eyes." 

Lord  Villiers  smi'  d,  and  looked,  with  eyes  full  of  love, 
on  sweet  Erminie,  "lO  sprung  up,  crowing  gleefully,  and 
crying,  "  Papa  1 " 

"Wait  one  moment,  till  I  see.  Why,  she's  the  very 
picture  of  your  lordship  1  Keep  still,  little  girl,  till  I  com- 
pare you  with  your  papa.  There's  the  same  large,  blue, 
Saxon  eyes  ;  the  same  fair,  curling  hair  ;  the  same  high, 
princely  forehead ;  the  same  handsome  mouth  (no  harm  to 
compliment  a  married  man — eh,  Maude) ;  the  same  long, 
aristocratic,  white  fingers — your  very  image,  my  lord  !  " 

"  I  had  rather  she  looked  like  Maude,"  said  the  young 
husband,  encircling  his  wife's  small  waist  fondly  with  his 
arm. 

"  Well,  so  she  does  when  she  smiles.  Don't  you  perceive 
the  resemblance  now  ?  Miss  Erminie,  will  you  be  still  ? 
What  a  restless  little  creature  it  is." 

"  Papa,  papa,  tate  Minnie,"  crowed  that  small  individual, 
holding  out  her  little  arms,  and  looking  pathetic  and  im- 
ploring. 

"  Here,  papa,  take  the  young  lady,"  said  the  duchess, 
depositing  her  in  the  young  man's  arms,  and  shaking  out 
her  glittering  plumage,  slightly  discomposed  by  the  frantic 
exertions  of  the  "  young  lady  "  in  question,  "  She  is  fonder 
of  gentlemen  than  ladies,  I  perceive.  She  wouldn't  be  a 
true  female,  though,  if  she  wasn't." 

Miss  Erminie,  in  a  paroxysm  of  delight,  immediately 
buried  her  "  long,  aristocratic,  white  fingers  "  in  papa's  thick 
burnished  locks,  with  variations  of  pulling  his  whiskers  and 
mustache  and  then  tenderly  kissing  the  above  hirsute  ap- 
pendages to  make  them  well  again.  And  papa,  like  all 
other  young  papas,  looked,  as  if  he  thought  her  the  most 

V">»»r1i»>-fiil      HiKif    th"?t    a\Tar    M\rt>A      Qn/4     rlanrArl      hpr    iin    unti 


..■iffm0' 


'^'SH 


:aiwr 


88 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


U' 


W^ 


down  until  she  forgot  all  sense  of  etiquette  and  propriety 
and  fairly  screamed  witli  delight. 

"  Now,  nurse,  take  Miss  Minnie,"  he  said,  rising  at  last, 
and  latighingly  shaking  back  his  thick,  fail  hair.  "  Come, 
Minnie,  be  good  now;  papa  must  go." 

Still  crowing  as  if  she  considered  she  had  done  some- 
thing rather  extraordinary  than  otherwise,  Miss  Minnie 
allowed  herself  to  be  taken  b}  the  nurse,  and  sa.v  pnpa  and 
mamma,  and  the  little  lady  in  velvet  and  diamonds,  mile  a 
good-bye,  and  turn  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Foolish  little  wife,"  said  Lord  Villiers,  laughing,  as  he 
saw  Lady  Maude  cast  a  "  longing,  lingering  look  behind  " 
at  her  heart's  treasure,  "can  you  not  even  tear  yourself 
away  from  your  darling  for  a  few  hours,  without  straining 
your  eyes  to  catch  a  last  glimpse  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  is  foolish,"  said  Lady  Maude,  half  apologet- 
ically, yet  still  keeping  her  yearning  eyes  fixed  on  little 
Erminie  ;  "  but  I  feel  so  strangely  about  leaving  her  to- 
night.    You  will  be  sure  to  take  good  care  of  her,  Martha?  " 

"  Sartin,  my  lady,"  responded  Martha,  rather  offended  at 
their  want  of  trust  in  her  care. 

"  Now,  Maude,"  said  Lord  Villiers,  amused  at  her  still- 
apparent  anxiety. 

Half-laughing,  half-reluctant,  she  allowed  herself  to  be 
drawn  from  the  room,  and  saw  the  door  close  between  her 
and  her  child. 

Down  in  the  spacious  drawing-room,  Lady  Maude  soon 
found  her<^e!f  fully  occupied  in  rec  iving  the  guests,  who 
began  to  rr.<;  thick  and  fast.  But  this  did  not  remove 
her  stran:.  .:  .^uxiety  concerning  Erminie;  and  about  an  hour 
after,  alie  'Aok-  away  for  a  moment  to  pay  a  hurried  visit  to 
the  nursery. 

All  was  calm  and  peaceful  there.  Little  Erminie  lay 
asleep  once  more  in  her  crib,  and  Martha  sat  dozing  in  her 
rocking-chair.  Half  ashamed  of  her  groundless  fears.  Lady 
Maude  lightly  kissed  her  sleeping  infant  and  hurried  away. 
Little  did  she  dream  how  many  suns  would  rise  and  set — 
how  many  years  would  come  and  go — before  they  two  should 
meet  again. 

The  night  in  mirth  and  music  v/as  passin""  on  and  the 
hour  of  midnight  approached. 


mmmimmmmmimmmmmmmmimmmsm'mmsmm 


LITTLE  KRMINIE. 


89 


propriety, 

ig  at  last, 
"  Come, 

>ne  some- 
i  Minnie 
pnpa  and 
s,  Mnile  a 

ng,  as  he 

behind  " 

yourself 

straining 

apologet- 
on  little 
:  her  to- 
lartha?" 
ended  at 

her  still- 

If  to  be 
ween  her 

ide  soon 
;sts,  who 
:  remove 
:  an  hour 
i  visit  to 

linie  lay 
ig  in  her 
rs,  Lady 
ed  away, 
id  set — 
o  should 


The  Duchess  of  B..  Earl  De  C<  cy,  and  Lady  Maude 
were  standing  conversing  together,  when,  as  if  struck  by  a 
sudden  thought,  the  duchess  exclaimed : 

"  Oh  !  by  the  way,  Lady  Maude,  do  30U  recollect  tne 
str.mge  voire  that  interrupted  the  ceremon)  the  night  you 
wore  marri      ■*     H.no  you  ever  tliscovered  w  at  was?" 

Both  Lady  Maud      ml  the  earl  grew  pale. 

"Never'  The  whole  ffair  has  been  v  pped  in  mys- 
tery ever  .since,"  said  I/idy  Maude,  with  a  slight     mdder. 

"  Dear  mc,  how  frightened  I  was  that  night!  '  said  the 
duchess,  arranging  her  bracelets.  "  It  was  quite  dreadful ; 
the  most  myslt  rious  thing — just  like  a  gh^st,  or  something 
in  a  play." 

The  duchess  broke  off  suddenly  nnd  listened,  as  the  great 
hall-clock  tolled  the  hour  of  twelve. 

And  just  as  the  last  stroke  died  away,  that  same  terrific 
voice  they  had  heard  years  before  p<  'f  d  lurough  the  spa- 
cious room  like  the  deep  tolling  of  a  'i-bell. 

"Two  y<  ars  ago  this  night  a  lega  ler  was  committed, 

and  now  the  hour  of  retribution  is  iiand.  The  sins  of 
the  father  shall  be  visited  upon  the  cliildren,  and  the  chil- 
dren's children,  even  to  the  third  and  fourth  generations. 
Woe  to  all  the  house  of  De  Courcy." 

As  the  angel  of  death  had  suddenly  descended  in  their 
midst,  every  face  blanched,  and  every  heart  stood  still  with 
nameless  horror.  For  one  moment  the  silence  of  the  grave 
reigned,  then  a  wild,  piercing  shriek  was  heard  through  the 
house,  and  the  nurse  Martha,  with  terror-blanched  face, 
and  uplifted  arms,  rushed  into  the  midst  of  the  assembled 
guests,  screaming: 

"  Oh,  Miss  Minnie  !  Miss  Minnie  !  Miss  Minnie  !  " 

"  Oh,  God  !  my  child  1  "  came  from  the  white  lips  of  Lady 
Maude,  in  a  voice  that  those  who  heard  never  forgot,  as 
she  fled  from  the  room,  up  the  long  staircase,  and  into  the 
nursery. 

But  the  crib  was  empty  ;  the  babe  was  gone. 

The  wild,  wild  shriek  of  amotl  er's  woe  resounded  through 
the  house,  and  Lady  Maude  fell  in  a  deadly  swoon  on  the 
floor. 

And  whf>n    T.nrH  Villiprc       hie  own    nnhlf»    fare,   whitft    and 


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f.^ 


:aivn 


90 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


set  with  unutterable  anguish— burst  into  the  room,  he  found 
her  lying  cold  and  lifeless  on  the  floor. 


Meantime,  some  of  the  most  self-possessed  of  the  guests 
had  assembled  round  Martha,  in  order  to  extract  from  her 
If  possible,  what  had  happened.  ' 

^    But  half  insane  with  terror  already,  the  continuous  scream- 
ing of  the  frightened  ladies  completely  drove  every  remain- 
ing gleam  of  sense  out  of  her  head,  and   her  words  were  <^o 
wild  and   incoherent,  that  but  little  could  be  made  out  of 
them.     It  appeared  from  what  she  said,  that  she  had  been 
sitting  half  asleep  in  her  chair,  with  her  little  charge  whollv 
asleep  in  the  cradle  beside  her,  when  suddenly  alall,  dark 
shadow  seemed  to  obscure  the  light  in  the  roorn ;  and  look- 
ing up  with  a  start  of  terror,  she  beheld  the  most  awful 
monster— whether  man,  or  woman,  or  demon,  she  could  not 
tell-in  the  act  of  snatching  little  Erminie  from  the  cradle, 
and  flying  from  the  room.     Frozen  with  horror,  she  had  re- 
mained in  her  seat   unable  to  move,  until  at  last,  fully  con- 
scious  of  what    had  taken  place,  she  had  fled  screaming 
down-stairs.     And  that  was  all  she  could  tell.     In  vain  they 
questioned  and  cross-questioned  ;  they  could  obtain  nothing 
further  from  the  terrified  Martha,  and  only  succeeded  iS 
driving  the  few  remaining  wits  she  had,  out  of  her  head. 

Lord  Viliers,  leaving  his  still-senseless  wife  in  the  care 
ot  her  maid,  with  a  face  that  seemed  turned  to  marble,  gave 
orders  to  have  the  house,  the  grounds,  the  whole  of  London. 
It  necessary,  ransacked  in  search  of  the  abductor. 

But  there  was  one  who  sat  bowed,  collapsed,  shuddering 
in  his  seat  who  recognized  that  voice,  and  knew  what  those 
awful  words  meant ;  and  that  one  was  Earl  De  Courcy 

"She  has  murdered  herl  she  has  murdered  her  1"  was 
Uie  cry  that  seemed  rending  his  very  heart  with  horror  and 


r 


WOMAN'S  HATE. 


9* 


CHAPTER  XH. 


woman's  hate. 


*•  Oh  I  woman  wronged  can  cherish  hate 

More  deep  and  dark  than  manhood  may; 
And  when  the  mockery  of  fate 

Hath  left  revenge  her  chosen  way, 
Then  all  the  wrongs  which  lune  hath  nursed 
Upon  her  spoiler's  head  shall  burst, 
And  all  her  grief,  and  woe,  and  pain, 
Bum  fiercely  on  his  heart  and  brain." 

— Whittier. 

Maddened,  despairing,  blaspheming,  cursing  earth  and 
heaven,  God  and  man,  hating  life,  and  sunshine,  and  the 
world,  the  wretched  gipsy  queen  had  fled  from  those  who 
gathered  around  her  on  that  morning  full  of  woe,  and  fled 
far  away,  she  neither  knew  nor  cared  whither. 

She  sped  along  through  lanes,  streets,  and  crowded 
thoroughfares,  seeing  nothing,  hearing  nothing,  conscious  of 
nothing  but  her  own  maddening  wrongs,  glaring  before  her 
like  a  maniac,  and  dashing  fiercely  to  the  ground  wi^i'  her 
clenched  fist  all  those  who,  moved  by  pity,  wou!  lave 
stopped  her.  On,  like  a  bolt  from  a  bow,  until  the  city 
seemed  to  fade  away,  and  she  saw  green  fields,  and  pretty 
cottiiges,  and  waving  trees,  and  knew  that  she  had  left  Lon- 
don behind  her. 

Nigh^  came  on  before  she  thought  of  stopping  for  a  single 
instant  to  rest.  She  had  walked  far  that  day  ;  her  feet 
were  bleeding  and  blistered ;  for  nearly  three  days  she  had 
touched  nothing  but  cold  water,  yet  her  iron  frame  was  un- 
subdued— she  felt  no  weariness,  no  faintness,  no  hunger. 
The  indomitable  spirit  within,  sustained  her.  She  thought 
of  nothing,  cared  for  nothing,  but  revenge  ;  and  for  that 
her  very  soul  was  crying  out  with  a  looging — a  hunger  that 
nothing  could  appease.  She  dared  not  stop  for  one  mo- 
ment to   think  ;  she  felt  she  would  go  mad  if  she  did  ;  so 

.,,,,     .UtJtt^vl   On    aiiu.     un,    .13     U   UIIVCII     Uli      Uj    r^CJIIlC     XlCrCC,   lll- 

ward  power,  against  which  it  was  useless  to  contend. 


'31 VO 


92 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


How  the  night  passed,  how  the  morning  came,  how  sht 
found  herself  in  the  peaceful  depths  of  the  forest,  she  never 
could  tell.  How,  ere  that  sun  set,  she  found  herself  with 
her  tribe,  lying  prostrate  on  the  cold  ground,  conccious, 
like  one  in  the  most  frightful    nightmare,  of  what  was  pass^ 

ing  around  her,  yet  unable  to  comprehend  what  it  meant 

all  was  vague  and  unreal  still.  Past,  and  present,  and 
future,  all  were  mingled  together  in  one  dark,  dreadful  chaos, 
of  which  nothing  was  real  but  the  dull,  muffled  pain  at  her 
heart,  and  the  word  revenge,  that  kept  ever  dancing  iu 
letters  of  blood-red  flame  before  her  hot,  Si.orching  eyes 

She  was  conscious,  in  a  lost,  dreamy  sort  of  way,  that  suns 
rose  and  set,  and  the  insufferable  light  departed,  and  the 
dark,  cool  night  came  again  and  again  ;  of  seeing  anxious 
eyes  bent  on  her,  and  hearing  hushed  voices  and  subdued 
footfalls,  and  dusky,  troubled  faces  stooping  over  her ;  but 
like  all  the  rest,  it  was  a  mockirg  unreality.  The' first 
shock  of  the  blow  had  crushed  and  stunned  her,  numbing 
the  sense  of  pain,  and,  and  leaving  nothing  but  the  heavy 
throbbing  aching  at  her  strong,  fierce  heart.  The  woman 
of  mighty  frame,  and  fierce,  stormy  passions,  lay  ihere 
motionless — stricken  to  the  nust.  * 

And  then  this  departed,  and  another  mood  came. 
One  by  one  the  broken  links  of  memory  returned  and 
then  all  other  feelings  were  submerged  and  lost  in  a  strong 
deadly,  burning  desire  of  revenge— a  revenge  as  fierce  and 
undying  as  that  of  a  tigress  robbed  of  her  cubs— a  revenue 
as   strong    and    unconquerable  as    the  heart   that  bore   k 
With  It   came  the   recollection  of  his  child  ;  and  drawing 
from  her  bosom  the  packet  he  had  given  her,  she  read  (for 
gipsy  as  she  was    she  could   read)  the  woman's    address. 
1  here  were  two  motives  to  preserve  \\[        nd,  like  a  lioness 
rousing  herself  from    a   lethargy,  the    ,   usy  queen   arose, 
and  resolutely  set  her  face  to  the  task.     C  >e  determination 
she  made,  never  to  lose  sight  of  him  whom  she  hated,  until 
her  revenge  was  satiated.     For  she  could  wait— there  would 
be  no  sudden  stabbing  or  killing  ;  she  did  not  believe  in 
such  vengeance  as  that— vengeance  that  tortures  its  victim 
but  for  a  moment.     Revenge   might   be  slow,  but  it  would 
be  sure— she  would  hunt  him,  pursue  him,  torture  him,  until 
life  was  worse  than  death,  until  he  would  look  upon  death 


WOMAN'S  HATE. 


93 


as  a  mercy  ;  then  he  would  have  felt  a  tithe  of  the  misery 
he  had  made  her  endure. 

Another  determination  was,  to  leave  her  son's  child  with 
the  tribe  until  such  time  as  she  should  again  claim  it.  She 
knew  it  would  be  well  cared  for  with  them,  for  they  all  loved 
their  queen.  And  taking  with  her  a  iad  whom  she  could 
trust,  she  left  them  one  morning,  and  started  for  the  child. 

Leaving  the  gypsy  youth  some  miles  from  the  place,  she 
approached  the  cottage,  which  was  opened  by  the  widow 
herself,  who  looked  considerably  startled  by  her  dark,  stern 
visitor.  In  the  briefest  possible  terms,  Ketura  made  known 
her  errand,  and  imperiously  demanded  the  child. 

The  woman,  a  mild,  gentle-looking  person,  seemed 
grieved  and  troubled,  and  began  something  about  her 
affection  for  the  little  one,  and  her  hope  that  it  would  not 
be  trken  away. 

"  I  want  the  child  1 — bring  it  here  I  "  broke  in  the  gipsy, 
with  a  fiercely-impatient  gesture. 

The  woman,  terrified  into  silence  by  her  dark,  imperious 
visitor  went  to  the  door  and  cailfid : 

"  Ray,  Ray  I  " 

"  Here,  Susan,"  answered  a  spirited  young  voice  ;  and, 
with  a  gleeful  laugh,  a  bright  little  fellow  of  three  years 
bounded  into  the  room,  dragging  after  him,  by  the  collar,  a 
huge,  savage-looking  bu!  dog,  who  snapped  fiercely  at  his 
captor. 

The  woman  Susan  uttered  a  scream,  and  fled  from  the 
dog  to  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

•'  I  carght  him,  Susan,  and  pulled  him  in  !  He  can't  bite 
me  1 "  said  the  little  fellow,  triumphantly,  his  black  eyes 
flashing  with  the  consciousness  of  victory.  Then,  catching 
sight  of  the  stranger,  he  stopped,  and  stared  at  her  in  silent 
wonder. 

"He  does  beat  all  I  ever  seen — he  bean't  afeerd  o' 
nothin',''  said  the  woman,  half-apologetically.  "  It  be  no 
fault  o'  mine,  mistress  ;  he  will  ha'e  his  own  way,  spite  o' 
all  I  can  say." 

The  gypsy  fixed  her  piercing  eyes  keenly  upon  him,  and 
started  to  behold  the  living  counterpart  of  her  own  son 
when  at  the  same  age.  There  wos  ihe  same  clear  olive 
complexion,  with  a  warm,  healthy  flush  on  the  cheeks  and 


'nm:  i^  'i  jyu  -    :=,i.vy 


94 


.J 


i; 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


1  ps ;  the  same  bold,  bright-black  eyes,  fringed  by  long 
suken  lashes  ;  the  same  high,  noble  brow;  the  same  daring^ 
undaun^d,    earl^ess  sp.nt,  flashing    already   in   his  young 

IT  ^.l'  u'"^  ^""^  '°^^^"^^  ^°^  ^"  '"^tant ;  but^when 
she  saw  the  thick,  curhng  black  hair  clustering  round  his 
head  ;  noted  the  small,  aristocratically  fastidiouf  mouth,  the 
ong,  dehcate  hand,  she  knew  he  must  have  inherited  them 
from  h.s  mother-and  she  grew  dark  and  stern  again.  H^ 
smUe.  too,  that  ht  up  his  beautiful  face,  and  softened  ts 
tm      ^^'^■?^T■'  ""^^  "°'  ^'''  ^^^'^^'•'«'  but  still  he  was 

rafkto"rt.ta;;:  ''-^  ^ ''-'  -y  °^^--  ^-^-^ 

"  Little  boy,  come  here,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand 
Any  other  child  would  have  been  frightened  by  her  odd 
dress,  her  harsh  voice,  and  darkly-gleaming  face  ;  but  he 
was  not.     It  might  be  that,  child  as  he  was^he  had  an  in- 

huT  i  '.?n  f^'f  T"^'^  ""^  P°^'^^'-  ^'  it  '"i^ht  have  been 
his  kindred  blood  that  drew  him  to  her~for  he  fearlesslv 
went  over,  put  his  hand  in  hers,  and  looked  up  in  her  acf 
\\hat  IS  your  name  >  "  she  said,  in  a  softer  voice  as  she 
parted  his  thick,  silky  curls,  and  looked  down  into  the  dark 
splendor  of  his  eyes. 

"  Raymond  Germaine,"  was  his  answer 

The  gypsy  looked  at  Susan.  ' 

-His  father's  name  was  Germaine,"  the  woman  hastened 
to  explain   "and  I  called  him  Raymond  because  I  saw  R  G 

hav^bettat.'^"''"^''^^^  '  ^"'  '  ^^°"^^'  ^^^^^  ^^  -'^S 

"  Very  good.     Will  you  come  with  me,  Raymond  >  " 
mother  "'^'"  ^""''^'^^  ^^^  b^^'  ^°°^i"g  ^t  his  foster- 

"She  will  let  you,"  said  the  gipsy,  calmly.  "Get  him 
ready  instantly.     I  have  no  time  to  lose  " 

The  woman,  though  looking  deeply  grieved  and  sorry, 
did  not  hesitate  to  obey,  for  there  was  something  in  the  ^e 
of  Ketura  that  might  have  made  a  bolder  woman  yield.  So 
she  dressed  little  Raymond  in  silence,  made  up  fhe  rest  of 
his  clothing  in  a  bundle,  kissed  him,  and  said  good-by  amid 
many  tears  and  sobs,  and  saw  him  depart  with  Ketura. 

Let  me  carry  you--we  have  a  long  way  to  go,"  said  the 


ori 


PCI 
•  V  > 


of 

at 


looping  to  lift  liim  in  her  strong  arms. 


WOMAN'S  HATE. 


95 


I'll  wilk,"  said  Master  Ray, 


"I   like  it.     We'll 


"  I  don't  want  to  be  carried, 
kicking  manfully. 

The  gipsy  smiled  a  hard,  grirn  «=Triiie. 

"  His  father's  spirit,"  she  muttered, 
see  how  long  he  will  hold  out." 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  little  hero  trudged  sturdily  along, 
but  at  the  end  of  that  time  his  steps  began  to  grow  slow 
and  weary. 

"  Ain't  we  most  there  ?  "  he  said,  looking  ruefully  down 
the  long  muddy  road. 

"  No ;  we're  a  long  way  oflF.  You  had  better  let  me  carry 
you." 

With  a  somewhat  sleepy  look  of  mortification,  Master  Ray, 
permitted  his  grandmother  to  lift  him  up ;  and  scarcely  had 
she  taken  him  in  her  arms,  before  his  curly  head  dropped 
heavily  on  her  shoulder,  and  he  was  fast  asleep. 

With  the  approach  of  night,  feeling  somewhat  fatigued 
and  footsore  herself,  she  overtook  our  friend  Mr.  Harkins, 
who,  as  he  related  to  Mr.  Toosypegs,  "  took  'er  hin,"  and 
brought  her  to  his  own  house,  where  "  Missis  'Arkins  " 
regaled  young  Mr.  Germaine  with  a  supper  of  bread  and 
milk,  to  which  that  small  youth  did  ample  justice. 

Another  hour  brought  her  to  the  place  where  the  gipsy  boy 
was  waiting,  and  to  his  care  she  consigned  her  still-sleeping 
grandson,  with  many  injunctions  that  he  was  to  be  taken 
the  best  care  of.  These  commands  were,  however,  unneces- 
sary;  for,  looking  upon  the  sleeping  child  as  the  future  king 
of  his  tribe,  the  lad  bore  him  along  as  reverentially  as  though 
he  were  a  prince  of  the  blood-royal. 

Then  the  gipsy  queen,  Ketura,  giving  up  all  other  thoughts 
but  that  of  vengeance,  turned  her  steps  in  the  direction  of 
London,  where,  by  fortune-telling,  and  the  other  arts  of  her 
people,  she  could  live  and  never  lose  sight  of  her  deadly 
foe. 

Everything  concerning  the  De  Courcys  she  learned.  She 
heard  of  the  marriage  of  Lord  Villiers  to  Lady  Maude  Percy ; 
and  on  the  night  of  the  wedding  she  had  entered,  unobserved 
by  all,  in  the  bustle,  and,  screened  from  view  behind  a  side- 
door,  she  had  uttered  the  words  that  had  thrown  the  whole 
assembly  into  such  diKmay.  Then,  knowing  what  must  be 
the  consequence,  she  had  fled  instantly,  and  was  far  from 


•'^ivn 


r 


96  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

danger  ere  the  terrified  guests  had  recovered  sufficient  pres- 
ence of  mind  to  begin  the  search  """  'tnc  pres- 
et "is'  wHU-n'''  '^'  ^'""''^'  '^^'■''^■^^^^''  '-^"d  f""owed  the 
ea.l,  ,s   well-known   to  the   reader,  an.  the  success  of  t- 

course  was  sufTiaent  even  to  satisfy  her,  implacable    s  si  e 

ill  h  Kllf  n  li  ""'"^  amounting  to  a  mono,„nnia 

It  1  luu  ,  and  still  she  pursued  hmi,  like  some  awful  nijiht- 
niare    wherever  he  went,  keeping  him  still  in  view.  ^ 

V\  th  the  birth  of  httle  Krminie,  she  saw  a  still  more  ex 
quisite  torture  m  store  for  him.  Her  verv  so  K  i  1 
^vith  the  thought  of  the  life-long  miserv'   he  nLTt   ,  "'^ 

l;ini  through  the  means  of  this  ?hilcU^t  Jl  ?^  ^S^e 
ciohzed.     trom  the  first  moment  she  had  heard  of  its  birth 
her  determination   was  to  steal  it-to  make  'wav  with 
niurder  it-anything^she  did  not  care  what,  oi^some  h  ~ 
o  make  h,m  feel  what  she  had  felt.     She  had  Cen     o    ? 
nne,  dehnous,  when  she  first  heard  of  her  son's  deaU,     but 
th..  ^nef  lasted  but  for  a  short  time;  and  then  she  re  oicc 
--yes,  actually  rejoiced-that  he  was  dead  and  free   rom 

The  baby  was  so  seldom  taken  out.  and  then  alwavs  in  .' 
carnage  with  its  mother  and  the  nurs;.  that  it  was  Zss  "ble 
to  think  of  obtaining  it.  To  enter  the  house,  exce  t  on  the 
occasion  of  a  ball,  or  party,  w^hen  servants  and  a  lliouW  be 
busily  occupied,  was  not  to  be  thou-ht  of  either  p  . 
the  night  of  the  abduction,  hearing  oltU  party  o  be  gt-e^n 
a  the  mansion  and  remembering  that  it  was  the  anni ve?  arv 
of  her  son's  death,  she  had  been  wrought  up  to  a  perf^.^ 

lZ7ostTttrml  ^"''  '''''-''  "  ^''^'  the^childre^v^i  ;; 
Toward  midnight,  she  had  cautiously  entered,  thinking  nJI 
were  most  hkely  to  be  in  the  drawing-rooms  at  that  hou 
and  having  previously  heard  from  the  sfrvants.  by  apparen  Iv 
careless  questions,  where  the  nursery  was  situated   h^nt^^ 

steps  in  that  direction.     P.usin?  a^t^-  ->-•••  ^  '''^' 

^'.  *-i..     .  „jsing  av  t«c  uuur,  wnicn  was  ajar. 


WOMAN'S   HATE.  97 

she  had  glanced  through,  and  beheld  child  and  nurse  both 
asleep. 

To  steal  cautiously  in,  snatch  up  the  child,  muffle  it  so 
tightly  ,n  her  cloak  that  if  it  cried  it  could  not  be  heard 
and  fly  down  tne  staircase,  was  but  the  work  of  an  instant' 
1  ausuig,  for  an  instant,  before  the  door  of  the  grand  salon' 
in  her  fleet  descent,  she  had  boldly  uttered  her  denunciation' 
and  then,  with  the  speed  uf  the  wind,  had  flown  throur^h  the 

sleet,  as  if  pursued  by  the  arch-demon  himself. 

T   ^^J'''"t,''-S  P'''"'"''^'  ''^  ^''^^'  ^'■°'"   exhaustion,  she  was  on 
London  Bridge      Darkly  came  back  the  memory  of  the  nicht 
just  two  years  before,  when,  with  deadly  despair  in  her  heart' 
she  had  stood  in  that  self-same  spot,  on  the  point  of  commit- 
ting  self-murder.     With  a  fierce    impulse,   she  opened  her 
cloak  and  lifted  the  half-smothered   infant   high  above  her 
head   to  dash  it  into  the  dark  waters   below.     For  one  mo- 
ment she  held  It  poised  in  the  air,  and  then  she  drew  it  back 
•  No,    she  said  with  a  fiendish  smile  ;  "  it  will  be  a  greater 
revenge  to  let  ,t  hve-to  let  it  grow  up  a  tainted,  corrupted 
miserable  outcast ;  and  then,  when   spurned   alike   by  God 
and  man,  present  It  to  them  as  their  child.     Ha  I  ha  I  hat 
that  W/  be  revenge  indeed  I     Live,  pretty  one— live  I     You 
are  tar  too  precious  to  die  yet." 

Awakened  from  her  sound  'sleep  by  the  unusual  and  un- 
pleasant  sensation  of  the  bitter  March  storm  beating  in  her 
face,  little  Erm.nie  began  to  cry.  Wrapping  it  onfe  more 
m  her  thick  mantle  the  gipsy,  knowing  there  was  noTime  to 
lose,  fled  away  in  the  direction  of  a  low  house  in  St.  Giles 
where,  with  others  of  her  tribe,  she  had  often  been,  and  the 

he?C  T-K^  ""^^^  ^"'  '  ^'P'y  '""'^^If'  '-^"d  a  member  of 
mT  'um!'     ^f^'  '^^^  ^'■°™  ^"  P^'-s^i^  she  could  stay 
wi  h  the  chi  d  until  the  first  heat  of  the  ser   'h  was  past,  anj 
then— then  to  begin  her  tortures  once  mort 

l;'^^^^/''^'^'^lgn^yed  without  ceasing  for  "  mamma,"  at 
first,  and  seemed  almost  to  know  the  difference  between  the 
ZZ  u^  ^'5  w'''^"  '^'  ^^^  now  located  and  the  princely 
to  disHke'th'e  1     '1     ''/''  "''  ^"  ^"y  ^'''''  '^^--ve'i  hard! 

ace  fom  whrr  '  '"^  ™uch  as  Ketura  hated  the 

race  trom  which  she    sprung,  she    r^niKr  ryw;^^    .u.   ..-.,, 

gentle,  helpless  babe.    So,  from  two  moiive''^"„er£eel'i^ 


•f^u 


wim 


.'^ivn 


98 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


of  commiseration  for  the  child,  and  the  other  a  fierce,  demon- 
iacal desire  that  she  should  live  to  be  the  instrument  of  her 
vengeance— she  procured  a  nurse  for  little  Erminie  a 
woman  a  shade  better  than  the  rest  of  her  class,  who  had 
lately  lost  a  child  of  her  own  ;  and  owing  to  her  care,  little 
trmmie  hved.     Lived— but  for  what  fate  ? 


CHAPTER  Xni. 


RETRIBUTION. 


"  Ay,  think  upon  the  cause — 
Forget  it  not.     When  you  lie  down  to  rest, 
Let  It  be  black  among  your  dreams  ;  and  when 
The  morn  returns,  so  let  it  stand  between 
The  sun  and  you,  as  an  ill-omened   cloud 
Upon  a  summer-day  of  festival."— Byron. 

A  MONTH  passed.  Night  and  day  the  search  had  been 
earned  on  ;  enormous  rewards  were  offered  ;  detectives 
were  sent  m  every  direction ;  but  all  in  vain.  No  trace  of 
the  lost  child  was  to  be  found. 

Lady  Maude  had  awoke  from  that  deadly  swoon,  only  to 
fall  into  another,  and  another,  until  her  friends  grew  seriously 
alarmed  for  her  life.  From  this,  she  sunk  into  a  sort  of  low 
stupor;  and  for  weeks,  she  lay  still  and  motionless,  uncon- 
scious of  everything  passing  around  her.  White,  frail,  and 
shadowy,  she  lay,  a  breathing  corpse,  dead  to  the  world  and 
all  It  contained.  She  scarcely  realized  her  loss,  she  felt  like 
one  who  has  received  a  heavy  blow,  stunning  her  for  a  time 

h^rl'«  Tk^*'''""'^^^''^  comprehend  the  full  extent  of 
her  loss  She  received  what  they  gave  her  in  a  passive  sort 
of  way  heard  without  understanding  what  they  said,  and 
wa  ched  them  moving  about  from  under  her  heavy  e;eiidt 
without  recognizing  them.  She  did  not  even  know  her 
husband,  who,  the  very  shadow  of  his  former  self,  ^ave  ud 
everything  to  remain  by  her  bedside,  night  and  day.  Thev 
began  to  be  alarmed  for  her  reason,  at  last;  but  her  physi- 
cian said  these  was  no  danerer— she  would  aron«,.  f™  ;u:„ 

„  --  _ _ —  •f^tzi  lulls 


i 


ze,  demon- 
ent  of  her 
Irminie,  a 
,  who  had 
care,  little 


had  been 
ietectives 
D  trace  of 

1,  only  to 
seriously 
)rt  of  low 
is,  uncon- 
frail,  and 
/orld  and 
i  felt  like 
>r  a  time, 
jxtent  of 
isive  sort 
aid,  and 
y  eyelids 
now  her 
gave  up 
'.  They 
ir  physi- 


I 


RETRIBL  riON.  gg 

hattti;''  '^"•-Sy.a.Iast:  .hey  must  only  1«  nature 

In,!:!!!i''-"".!''T'"^^'  ^'"'>'  '"  ^^'-^y-  ^^  he  sat  bowed  and  col- 
lapsed  m  h.s  cha>r.  a  servant  entered  to  announce  a  stranger 
be  mv,  who  earnestly  desired  to  see  his  lordship  ^'' 

Is  It  a  woman  ?  "  asked  the  earl,  turning  ghastly. 

;o„.thing  Of  the  utmost  in,po„a;c'"e%o";evea7r;ou''^.r. 
"  Show  him  up,"  said  the  earl  eagerly ;  while  his  heirf 

riie  next  moment  the  door  was  thrown  open    and  a  t^ll 

Two  fierce,   black  eyes,  like   living  coals    elared   af   hJm 
enri      Thl^  f  f,  '      '  '"l '™"  ''^'"^-  <^'"":hed  the  heart  of  the 

:iouittL;;i'::rrr.'^\,:^^.„^!jr 

-™"h-aty„1nt!'  '"  •>'--  -  -  -rrunTe^ 
"Leave  the  room,"  said  the  stranger,  in  a  deeo    stern 

The  man  vanished-the  door  closed.    And  Earl  De  Tonr^^,, 

soufme°;tl^htT.tld.::^^^^^^ 

Silently  the  stranjrer  lifted  hu  h.l  „j  „."°    ^  ™"^.- 
A  mass  of  thick,  streaming,  black  hairr-orChrch,"  "nVS 


'■^i¥n 


lOO 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


March  night,  the  pitiless  rain  had  beat,  fell  over  her  shoul- 
ders.  The  long  cloak  was  dropped  ofT,  and,  stern,  dark  and 
menacing,  he  saw  the  lofty,  commanding  form,  the  fierce, 
black  eyes,  and  dark,  lowering  brow  of  the  wronged  gipsy 
queen,  Ketura,  his  relentless,  implacable  foe. 

The  last  hue  of  life  faded  from  the  white  face  of  the  carl 
at  the  terrible  sight ;  a  horror  unspeakable  thrilled  through 
his  very  soul.  Twice  he  essayed  to  speak  ;  his  lips  moved, 
but  no  sound  came  forth. 

Silent,  still,  she  stood  before  him,  as  rigid  as  i  Hgure  in 
bronze,  her  arms  folded  over  her  breast,  her  lips  tightly  com- 
pressed, every  feature  in  perfect  repose.  You  might  have 
thought  her  some  dark  statue,  but  that  life— burning  life- 
was  concentrated  in  those  wild,  dark  eyes,  that  never  for  a 
single  instant  removed  their  uncompromising  glare  from  his 
face. 

So  they  stood  for  nearly  five  minutes,  and  then  words 
came,  at  last,  to  the  trembling  lips  of  the  earl. 

"  Dark,  dreadful  woman  1  what  new  crime  have  you  come 
to  perpetrate  this  night  >  " 

"  No  crime,  lord  earl.  I  come  to  answer  the  questions 
you  asked  as  I  entered." 

"  Of  the  child  ?  You  have  stolen  it  ?  "  he  wildly  de- 
manded. 

Her  malignant  eyes  were  on  him  still  ;  her  arms  were  still 
folded  over  her  breast ;  no  feature  had  moved  ;  but  now  a 
strange,  inexplicable  smile  flickered  round  her  thin  lips,  as 
she  quickly  answered ; 

" I  have  I  " 

"And,  woman! — demon  in  woman's  form  I  what  wrong 
had  that  helpless  babe  done  you  ?  "  he  cried  out,  in  pas- 
sionate  grief. 

No  change  came  over  the  set,  dark  face,  as  from  the  lips, 
still  wreathed  with  that  dreadful,  ominous  smile,  slowly 
dropped  the  words : 

"  *  The  sins  of  the  father  shall  be  visited  upon  the  chil- 
dren's children,  even  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 
An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  and  a  life  for  a  life, 
saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts  !  '  " 

"  Devil  incarnate  I  blaspheme  not  I  Oh,  Heaven  of 
heavens !  how  had  you  the  heart  io  murder  that  child  ?  " 


/n 


er  shoul- 
dark  and 
he  fierce, 
eel  gipsy 

the  carl 

through 

s  moved, 

tigure  in 
itly  com- 
jjht  have 
ng  life — 
'er  for  a 
from  his 

n  words 

ou  come 

[uestions 

Idly    de- 

vere  still 
It  now  a 
1  lips,  as 


t  wrong 
in    pas- 

the  lips, 
,    slowly 

the  chil- 
neration. 
or  a  life, 


iven 


of 


RETRIBUTION. 


10? 


"  You  had  the  heart,  lorJ  earl,  to  murder  mine." 

"  I  believed  him  guilty.     You  know  I  did  I     And  sht  was 

an  mnocent  babe,  as  pure  from  all  guile  as  an  angel  from 

heaven. 

"So  was  he,  my  lord.  He  was  as  free  from  that  crimo 
as  that  babe ;   and  yet  for  it  you  took  his  life." 

It  was  awful  to  hear  her  speak  in  that  low.  even  vc'ce  so 
unnaturally  deep  and  calm.  No  pitch  of  passion  could  be 
half  so  terrific  as  that  unearthly  quiet. 

'!  Devil  I— fiend  I  you  shall  die  for  this  I  "  he  cried,  madly 
sprmgmg  up.  "  What  ho  I  without  th-re  I  Secure  this  hae 
of  perdition  before — "  * 

A  low,  strangled  gurgle  finished  the  sentence ;  for,  with 
the  bound  of   a     pythoness,     he  had  sprung  forward  and 
grasped  him  by  the  throat.     She  had  the  strength  of  a  giant 
He  was  a  weak,  broken-down  old  man,  as  powerless  in  her 
strong,  horny  fingers  as  an  infant. 

He  grew  black  in  the  face,  his  eyeballs  projected,  and  he 
struggled,  blmdly  and  helplessly,  to  extricate  himself.  She 
laughed  a  low,  jeering  laugh  at  his  ineffectual  efforts,  and 
said,  msultingly,  as  she  released  him: 

"  Softly,  softly,  lord  earl  I  such  violent  straining  of  your 
ungs  is  not  good  for  your  constitution.  You  are  quite  help, 
less  in  my  hands,  you  perceive  ;  and  if  you  attempt  to  raise 
your  voice  in  that  unpleasant  manner  again,  I  shall  be  forced 
to  give  you  a  still  more  loving  clutch  next  time.  Your  best 
policy  is,  to  keep  as  quiet  as  possible  just  now." 

He  ground  his  teeth  in  impotent  fury,  as  he  gasped  for 
breath. 

••  Besides,  you  take  things  for  granted  too  easily,  my  lord. 
vVhat  proof  have  you  that  1  am  a  murderess  ?  You  are  and 
in  the  sight  of  God  ;   but  that  is  not  saying  I  am  I  " 

"Oh,  woman  !  guilty,  blood-stained  firndess  1  your  own 
words  confirm  it  I  "    he  passionately  cried  out. 

"Gently,  my  lord,  gently  I  Have  you  heard  me  say  I 
murdered  her?  "  ^ 

"  You  did  not  deny  it." 

"  That  is  negative  proof,  very  ur  substantial,  as  you  evi- 
dently know,  although  you  found  it  sufficient  to  condemn  my 
son  1  '  ■' 

«  You  are  too  much  of  a  demon  \c  spare  her  innocent  life 


imwcr 


:31!««1_ 


I02 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


one  moment 

she  is  dead  1 
>> 


when  in  your  power.     Oh,  I  know — I  know 

Dear  little  angel  1     Sweet,  helpless  little   Er- 

minie 

He  almost  lost  his  dread  of  her  in  his  passion  of  grief. 
His  chest  heaved  as  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and 
something  like  a  convulsive  sob  shook  his  frame.  "  Talk 
not  of  grief  till  thou  hast  seen  the  tears  of  stern-browed 
men." 

But  the  woman  felt  no  remorse.  No ;  an  exultant  sense 
of  triumph — a  fiendish  joy  filled  her  heart,  at  the  proof  of 
what  she  had  made  him  suffer.  She  had  still  a  fiercer  pang 
in  store  for  him  ;  and  waiting  till  he  had  lifted  his  pale  face 
again,  she  began,  in  a  low,  mocking  voice  : 

'•  And  thinkest  thou,  oh,  Lord  De  Courcy,  there  is  no 
darker  doom  than  death  ?  Do  you  think  vengeance  such  as 
mine  is  to  be  sated  by  such  paltry  revenge  as  that  ?  Pshaw, 
man  1  You  are  only  a  novice  in  the  art  of  torture,  I  see  ; 
though  you  commenced  a  dangerous  game  when  you  prac- 
ticed first  on  me.  Why,  if  I  had  slain  her,  that  would  have 
been  momentary  revenge,  and  fifty  thousand  lives  such  as 
hers  could  not  sate  mine.  Other  children  might  be  born, 
years  would  pass,  and  she,  in  course  of  time,  would  be 
almost  forgotten.  No,  my  lord  ;  such  vengeance  as  that 
would  never  satisfy  the  gipsy  Ketura  1  " 

"  Saints  in  heaven!  Am  I  sane  or  mad?  Oh,  woman, 
woman  1  speak,  and  tell  me  truly.  Does  the  child  yet 
live  ? " 

"  It  does  1  " 

"  Thank  God  I  Oh,  bless  God  for  that !  "  he  cried,  pas- 
sionately, while  tears  of  joy  fell  fast  from  his  eyes. 

The  same  evil,  sinister  smile  curled  the  lips  of  the 
gipsy. 

"  What  a  fool  the  man  is  1  "  she  said,  bitterly,  •'  thanking 
God  that  her  life  is  spared,  when  she  will  yet  live  to  curse 
the  hour  she  was  born.  Oh,  man  1  can  you  comprehend  the 
depths  of  a  gipsy's  hate — you,  with  your  cold,  sluggish  Nor- 
thern blood  ?  Yes  ;  she  shall  live  ;  but  it  will  be  for  a  doom 
so  dark  that  even  the  fiends  themselves  will  shudder  to  hear 
it ;  she  will  live  to  invoke  death  as  a  blessing,  and  yet  will 
not  dare  to  die  1  And  then  I  will  return  your  Erminie  to 
her  doting  grandsire,   a  thing  so  foul  and  polluted  that  the 


RETRIBUTION. 


103 


very  earth  will  refuse  her  a  grave.     Then,  Lord  De  Courcy, 
my  revenge  will  be  complete  !  " 

His  hands  dropped  from  his  face  as  if  he  had  been  strick- 
en with  sudden  death ;  t!ie  sight  seemed  leaving  his  eyes ; 
the  very  life  seemed  palsied  in  his  heart.  He  was  conscious, 
for  one  dizzy  moment;  of  nothing  but  of  the  blasting  sight 
of  that  terrific  woman,  who,  with  her  flaming  eyes  piercing 
him  like  two  drawn  stilettoes,  towered  there  above  him,  like 
a  vision  from  the  infernal  regions. 

She  was  calm  still ;  that  terrible,  exultant  smile  had  not 
left  her  lips  ;  but  he  would  sooner  have  seen  her  foaming 
with  passion  than  as  she  looked  at  that  moment,  standing 
there. 

"  This  is  our  second  interview,  lord  earl,"  she  said,  while 
he  sat  speechless.  "  The  first  time  I  pleaded  on  my  knees 
to  you,  and  you  spurned  me  from  you  as  if  I  had  been  a 
dog.  This  time  it  should  be  your  turn  to  plead ;  for  you 
have  almost  as  much  at  stake  as  I  had  then.  If  you  do  not 
choose  to  do  so,  that  is  your  affair,  not  mine.  The  third 
time — when  it  comes — you  will  have  realized  what  a  gipsy's 
revenge  is  like." 

"  Oh,  women  1  there  be  one  spark  of  human  nature  in 
your  savage  breast,  for  God's  sake,  spare  that  child  1  "  cried 
the  earl,  wrought  up  to  a  perfect  agony  by  her  words. 

She  stepped  back  a  p.  ■  and  looked  at  him  for  an  instant 
in  silence.     At  last : 

■  I  pleaded  to  you  on  my  knees,"  she  said,  with  an  icy 
smile. 

Her  words  gave  him  hooe.  The  proud  man  fell  on  his 
knees  before  her,  and  held  up  his  clasped  hands  in  suppli- 
cation. The  high  born  Earl  De  Courcy  knelt  in  wildest 
agony  at  the  feet  of  the  outcast  gipsy  1 

Her  hour  of  triumph  had  come.  Folding  her  arms  over 
her  breast,  she  looked  down  upon  him  as  he  knelt  there, 
with  a  look  no  words  can  ever  describe. 

"  Spare  her — spare  her  I  For  God's  sake,  spare  that 
child  1  " 

There  was  no  reply.  Erect,  rigid  and  moveless  as  a  figure 
in  stone,  she  stood,  looking  down  upon  him  with  her  blazing 


eye: 


•'  Slay  her,  if  you  will ;  let  her  go  to  heaven  guileless  and 


•=U¥fl 


If: 


I04  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

unstained— anything  rather  than  the  doom  you  have  destined 

for  her!"  .,  .,  . 

Still  no  reply.  With  that  triumphant  smile— a  smile  such 
as  Satan  himself  might  have  worn— she  looked  steadily  and 
quietly  down  at  the  man  at  her  feet. 

"  Besides,  you  dare  not  keep  her  1  "  he  said,  gathermg 
courage  from  her  silence  ;  fancying,  perhaps,  it  was  a  sign 
of  relenting.  "  The  officers  of  the  law  would  find  you  out ; 
and  a  worse  fate  than  your  son's  would  be  yours." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  allusion.  Her  brow  grew  black  as 
a  thunder-cloud ;  but  she  only  laughed  scornfully. 

"  Find  me  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Yes,  if  they  can  find  last 
year's  snow,  last  year's  partridges,  or  last  summer's  rain. 
Let  them  find  me.  Why,  if  it  came  to  that,  I  could  dash  its 
brains  out  in  one  instant,  before  its  very  mother's  eyes." 

"  Oh,  worst  of  fiends  1  does  there  linger  a  human  heart  in 

your  body  ? "  ,    i   •         •      *. 

"  No  ;  it  turned  to  stone  the  night  I  groveled  in  vain  at 

your  feet." 

"  Take  any  other  revenge  you  like  ;  haunt  me,  pursue  me, 
as  you  will,  but  restore  that  child  1  She  never  injured  you ; 
if  there  is  guilt  anywhere,  it  rests  on  my  head.  Let  me, 
therefore,  suffer,  and  give  back  the  child." 

She  smiled  in  silence. 

"You  will  relent;  you  are  a  woman,  and  not  a  devil. 
Consent  to  what  I  ask,  and  if  wealth  be  any  object,  you  shall 
have  the  half— the  whole  of  my  fortune.  Tell  me  you  con- 
sent, and  all  I  have  in  the  world,  together  with  my  everlast- 
ing gratitude,  will  be  yours."  _ 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  this  the  night  you  refused 
to  grant  my  prayer,  my  lord.  Will  your  wealth  and  '  every- 
lasting  gratitude  '  restore  my  son  from  the  dead  ?  " 

'•God  knows,  were  it  in  my  power,  I  would  willingly  give 
my  life  to  restore  him  and  cancel  the  past.  All  that  remains 
for  me  to  do  I  will  do,  if  you  restore  the  child." 

"  Lord  earl,  when  I  knelt  to  you,  you  commanded  me  to 
get  up.  It  is  my  turn  now.  You  have  been  sufficiently 
humiliated,  even  to  satisfy  me.     Rise  1  " 

He  rose,  and  stood  before  her,  so  faint  with  many  emo- 
tions that  he  was  obliged  to  grasp  the  chair  for  support. 

"  You  will  restore  her  ?  "  he  breathlessly  asked. 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


105 


"  Never  so  help  me  God  ;  till  my  vow  is  fulfilled  1  Palsied 
be  my  heart,  it  it  ever  relents  1  Withered  be  my  hand  if  it 
ever  confers  a  boon  on  you  or  one  of  your  house  I  Blighted 
be  ir  ongue,  if  it  ever  heap  but  curses  on  you!  Doomed 
be  I.  '  ^oul,  if  it  ever  forgives  you  for  what  you  have  done^l 
Onoe  again,  lord  earl,  we  are  to  meet,  and  then,  beware 

The  last  words  were  uttered  with  a  maniac  shriek,  as  she 
turned  and  fled  from  the  room.  There  was  a  heavy  fall; 
and  the  servants,  rushing  in  in  terror,  found  Earl  De  Courcy 
lying  on  the  floor,  with  a  dark  stream  of  blood  flovving  from 
his  mouth.  They  raised  him  up,  but  they  were  too  late.  He 
had  ruptured  an  artery  of  the  heart;  and  with  the  clotted 
gore  still  foaming  around  his  lips,  he  lay  there  before  them, 
stark  and  dead  1 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


••  Yellow  sheaves  from  rich  Ceres  the  cottage  had  crowned, 
Green  rushes  were  strewed  on  the  floor  ; 
The  casements  sweet  woodbine  crept  wantonly  round, 

And  decked  the  sod-seats  at  the  door."  _c„^„,^c.ham. 

With  that  last  terrible  denunciation  on  her  lips,  Ketura 
had  fled  from  the  room,  from  the  house,  out  into  the  night. 

Half  delirious  with  mingled  triumph,  fiendish  joy,  and 
the  pitch  of  passion  into  which  she  had  wrought  herself,  she 
walked  with  rapid,  excited  strides  along,  heedless  of  whither 
she  went,  until  she  suddenly  ran  with  stunning  force  against 
another  pedestrian  who  was  coming  toward  her. 

The  force  of  the  concussion  sent  the  unfortunate  individual 
sprawling,  with  rather  unpleasant  suddenness,  on  his  back  ; 
while  the  gipsy  herself,  somewhat  cooled  by  the  shock, 
paused  for   a  moment  and  grasped  a  lamp-post  to  steady 

herself.  .        ,      •      r 

"  iiuoU  gracious  i     gaspcu  j.  uccp:j  aftg-^'  '  •'  •- 

the  pavement,  "  if  this  ain't  too  bad  1     To  be  run  into  this 


io6 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


way  and  pitched  heels  over  head  on  the  broad  of  one's 
back  without  a  minute's  warning  1  Why,  it's  a  shame  1  " 
reiterated  tlie  voice,  in  a  still  more  aggrieved  cadence,  as  its 
owner,  a  pale  young  man  with  a  carpet-bag,  slowly  began  to 
pick  himself  up. 

The  gipsy,  having  recovered  from  the  sudden  collision, 
was  about  to  hurry  on  without  paying  the  slightest  attention 
to  the  injured  owner  of  the  carpet-bag,  when  that  individual, 
catching  a  full  view  of  her  face,  burst  out  in  amazement : 

"  Why,  if  it  ain't  Mrs.  Ketura  I  Well,  if  this  isn't  real 
surprising!  How  ^/^  you  do  ?  lam  glad  to  see  you,  I'm 
sure  ;  and  I  dare  say  it  was  all  an  accident.  I  hope  you 
have  been  quite  well  since  I  saw  you  last,  ma'am,"  said  the 
pale  young  man,  politely  ;  "  I've  been  7.'ery  well  myself,  I'm 
obliged  to  you." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  said  the  gipsy,  impatiently,  scanning 
his  mild,  freckled  frontispiece  with  her  stiletto-like  eyes. 

"  Why,  you  haven't  forgotten  me,  have  you  ?  "  said  the 
young  man,  straightening  out  his  beaver,  which  had  got 
stove  in  during  the  late  catastrophe;  "  why,  I'm  O.  C.  Too- 
sypegs  I  I  dare  say  ycu  didn't  expect  to  see  me  here,  but 
we  haven't  left  England  yet,  you  know.  We're  going  the 
day  after  to-morrow,  aunt  Prisciller  and  me ;  and  I'm  glad 
of  it,  too,  for  this  here  London  ain't  what  it's  cracked  up  to 
be.  I  had  my  pocket  picked  at  least  twenty  times  since  I 
came  here.  They  took  my  watch,  my  pocketbook,  and  my 
jack-knife,  and  didn't  even  leave  me  so  much  as  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  to  wipe  my  nose."  And  Mr.  Toosypegs,  who 
evidently  considered  this  the  climax  of  human  depravity, 
gave  his  hat  a  fierce  thump,  that  sent  that  astonished  head- 
piece away  down  over  his  eyes  with  rather  alarming  sud- 
denness. 

"  I  don't  know  you— let  me  pass,"  said  the  gipsy,  harshly, 
trying  to  walk  away  from  him ;  but  Mr.  Toosypegs  quick- 
ened his  pace  likewise,  and  kept  up  with  her. 

"  Why,  you  do  know  me,  Mrs.  Ketura,  and  I  hope  you 
haven't  went  and  forgotten  me  so  soon,  '  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, in  a  deeply-injured  tone.  "  Don't  you  recollect  that 
nasty  wet  night,  a  little  over  two  years  ago,  when  you  was 
walking  along  the  north  road,  and  1  made  Mr.  Harkins,  who 
is  a  real  nice  man,  only  a  little  hasty  at  times,  take  you  in 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


X07 


sud- 


and  drive  you  to  town  ?     You  didn't  seem   in  very   good 
spirits  that  night,  and  I  was  real  sorry  for  your  trouble— i 

really  was,  Mrs.  Ketura."  .       ,     ,         u       u*        ««*. 

The  gipsy  made  no  reply.  Bitterly  her  thoughts  went 
back  to  that  night-that  long,  desolate.  so"«^f"j  "jf  t^" 
when  she  had  bidden  her  son  a  last  farewell.  She  had  had 
her  revenge;  she  had  wrenched  cries  of  anguish  from  those 
who  had  tortured  her  ;  but  oh  1  what  revenge  could  remove 
the  gnawing  at  her  heart  ?  what  vengeance  could  restore 
her  her  son  ?  With  one  of  those  hollow  groans  that  seem 
rending  the  heart  they  burst  from,  her  head  dropped  on  her 
bosom  There  was  a  world  of  anguish  and  despair  in  the 
sound,  and  it  went  right  to  the  simple  heart  of  the  really  kind 

Mr.  Toosypegs.  .       .      , 

"  There,  now,  don't  take  on  so  about  it,"  he  began,  pite- 
ously  •  "  it's  real  distressing  to  listen  to  such  groans  as  that. 
Everything  happens  for  the  best,  you  know ;  and  though,  as 
I  remarked  at  the  time  to  my  friend  Mr.   Harkins,  it  was 
real  disagreeable  of  them  to  take  and  send  your  son  away, 
when  he  didn't  want  to  go.  still  it  can't  be  helped  now,  and 
there's  no  use  whatever  in  making  a  fuss  about  it.     As  my 
uncle,  who  hadn't  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance,  has  lelt 
me  two  thousand  pounds,  I  should  be  real  glad  to  aid  you 
as  far  as  money  will  go.  and  you  needn't  mind  about  giving 
me  your  note  for  it  either.     I  ain't  particular  about  getting 
it  back  again,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you. 

During  this  well-meant  attempt  at  consolation,  not  one 
word  of  which  the  gipsy  had  heard,  Mr.  Toosypegs  had  been 
fumbling  uneasily  in  his  pockets,  and  shifting  his  carpet-bag 
in  a  fidgety  manner  from  one  hand  to  the  other  Having 
managed  at  last  to  extract  a  plump  pocket-book  from  some 
mysterious  recess  inside  of  his  coat,  he  held  it  out  to  h.s 
companion ;  but  she,  with  her  eyes  floom'ly  fixed  on  the 
ground,  seemed  so  totally  oblivious  of  both  himself  and  it, 
that,  with  a  comical  expression  of  distress,  he  was  forced  to 
replace  it  again  where  it  came  from.  ^^ 

''  Now  I  wouMt  mind  it  so  much  if  I  was  you,  you  know, 
he  resumed,  in  a  confidential  tone.     '' Where's  the  good  of 
making  a  time  when  things  can't  be  helped  ?     I  m  gomg^to 
to  sail  for  America  the  day  alter  to-morrow,  rn  a  B-a^ --/. 
tarry  ship,  and  I  would  like  to  see  you  in  good  spirits  before 


!« 


:3ULVa 


zo8 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"\ 


I  go.  It  would  make  it  a  great  deal  nicer  if  I  thought  you 
weren't  taking  on." 

The  last  words  caught  her  ear.  She  lifted  her  haggard 
face  and  fixed  her  piercing  eyes  so  suddenly  full  upon  him, 
that,  with  an  alarmed  "  Lord  bless  me,"  he  sprung  back  and 
gazed  upon  her  in  evident  terror. 

"  Going  to  America,  are  you  ? — to-morrow  ? "  she  asked, 
rapidly. 

"  Why — a — no,  sir — that  is,  yes,  ma'am,"  stammered  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  his  self-possession  considerably  shaken  by  those 
needle-like  glances. 

With  lightning-like  rapidity  there  flashed  through  the 
gipsy's  mind  a  scheme.  London  was  no  longer  a  safe  place 
for  her ;  she  was  liable  to  be  arrested,  now,  at  any  moment, 
and  with  her  half-completed  revenge  this  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  She  felt  her  best  course  would  be,  to  leave 
England  altogether  for  some  years ;  and  she  determined  to 
avail  herself  of  the  present  opportunity. 

•'  If  I  go  with  you  to  America,  will  you  pay  my  passage  ?  " 
she  abruptly  asked,  transfixing  Mr.  Toosypegs  with  her 
lightning  eyes. 

"  Why,  of  course,  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,"  respond- 
ed the  young  man,  with  alacrity ;  "  it  will  make  it  real  pleas- 
ant to  have  you  with  us  during  the  passage,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  who  felt  politeness  required  of  him  to  say 
as  much,  though  his  conscience  gave  him  a  severe  twinge 
for  telling  such  a  fib.  "  Perhaps,  as  we  start  the  day  after 
to-morrov/,  you  wouldn't  mind  coming  and  stopping  with  us 
until  then,  so's  to  have  things  handy.  Aunt  Prisciller  will 
be  delighted  to  make  your  acquaintance,  I  know,"  concluded 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  whose  conscience,  at  this  announcement, 
gave  him  another  rebuking  pinch. 

"  There  will  be  two  children  to  bring,"  said  the  gipsy, 
hurriedly :  "  I  must  go  for  them." 

"  Half  price,"  muttered  Mr.  Toosypegs,  sotto  voce ;  "  what 
will  aunt  Prisciller  say  ?  " 

"  I  will  meet  you  here  by  daybreak  the  day  after  to- 
morrow." said  the  gipsy,  stopping  suddenly.  "  Will  you 
come  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly,"  responded  Mr.  Toosypegs,  who  was 
too  much  in  awe  of  her  to  refuse  her  anything  she  might 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


X09 


you 


e?" 
her 


ask  •  *«  I'n  be  in  this  precise  spot  by  daybreak  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  though  I  don't  approve  of  early  rising  as  a  gen- 
eral  thing  ;  it  ain't  nice  at  all." 

"  Very  vrell,  I  will  be  here  —you  need  come  with  me  no 
further,"  said  Ketura,  dismissing  him  with  a  wave  of  her 
hand ;  and  ere  he  could  expostulate  at  this  summary  dis- 
missal, she  turned  a  corner  and  disappeared. 

That  night  a  trusty  messenger  was  dispatched  by  Ketura 
to  the  gipsy  camp   for  little  Raymond,  who  arrived  the  fol- 
lowing night.     His  free,  gipsy  life  seemed  to  agree  wonder- 
fully  well  with  that  young  gentleman,  who  appeared  m  the 
highest    possible  health    and  spirits;  his  rosy    cheeks  and 
sparkling  black  eyes  all  aglow  from  the  woodland  breezes. 
Five  years  old  now,  he  was  tall    and  well-grown  for  his  age, 
could  climb  the  highest  trees    like  a  squirrel,  set  bird-traps 
and  rabbit-snares,  and  was  as  lithe,  supple,  and  active  as  a 
young  deer.     The  eyes  of    Ketura  lit  up  with    pride  as  she 
gazed  upon  him  ;  nnd  for  the  first  time  the  idea  occurred  to 
her  that  he  might  live  to  avenge  his  father's  wrongs  when  she 
was  dead.     She  would  bring  him  up  to  hate  all  of  the  house 
of  De  Courcy ;  that  hate  should  grow  with  his  growth  until 
it  should  become  the  one  ruling  passion  and  aim  of  his  life, 
swamping,  by  its  very  intensity,  every  other  feeling. 

Master  Raymond,  who  seemed  quite  as  chary  of  caresses 
as  his  grandmother  herself,  met  her  with  a  good  deal  of  in- 
difference ;  but  no  sooner  did  he   see  little  Erminie,  than  a 
rash  and  violent  attachment  was  the  result.     Accustomed  to 
the  dirty,  dusky  gipsy  babies,  who  rolled    all  day  unheeded 
in  the  grass,  this  little  snowy-skinned,    golden-haired,  blue- 
eyed  infant  seemed  so  wondrously  lovely  '.hat  he  had  to  give 
her  sundry  pokes  with  his  finger  to  convince  himself  she  was 
real,  and  not  an  illusion.     Miss    Erminie  did  not    seem  at 
all  displeased   by  these  attentions,  but  favored  him  with  a 
coquettish  smile,  and  with  her  finger  in  her  rosy  mouth,  gave 
him  every  encouragement  he  could  reasonably  expect  on  so 
short  an  acquaintance.     Being   left  alone   together,  Master 
Raymond,  who  did  not  altogether  approve    of  her  wastmg 
her  time,  lying  blinking  at  him  in  her  cradle,  began  to  think 
it  was  only  a  common  act  of  politeness  she  owed  him  to  get 
up,  and  seeing  no  symptoms    ui  any  su^"    iw<.ei,...  ..  •-..     i- 
young  lady's  part,  he  resolved  to  give  her  a  hint  to  that 


••fVN. 


m^mv^i* 


no 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


effect.  Catching  her,  therefore,  by  one  Httle  plump  leg  and 
arm,  he  gave  her  a  jerk  that  swung  her  completely  out,  and 
then  grasping  her  by  the  waist,  he  dumped  her  down  on  the 
floor  beside  him,  upon  which  she  immediately  clapped  an- 
other finger  in  her  mouth ;  and  there  they  sat,  silently  star- 
ing at  each  other,  until  both  were  dispatchea  to  bed. 

Early  in  the  morning  Master  Raymond  and  Miss  Erminie 
found  themselves  awakened  from  an  exceedingly  sound 
slumber,  and  undergoing  the  unpleasant  operation  of  dress- 
ing. The  young  gentleman  kicked  and  plunged  manfully 
for  a  while,  but  finding  it  all  of  no  use,  he  gave  up  the 
struggle  and  yielded  to  fate  in  a  second  nap.  Erminie, 
after  crying  a  little,  followed  his  example  ;  and  the  gipsy, 
taking  her  in  her  arms,  and  followed  by  one  of  the  tribe 
bearing  the  sleeping  Raymond,  hurried  to  the  trysting- 
place. 

There  they  found  Mr.  Toosypegs,  looking  green  and  sea- 
sick already,  from  anticipation.  In  a  few  words  the  gipsy 
gave  him  to  understand  that  she  wished  to  go  on  board  im- 
mediately— a  proposition  which  rather  pleased  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, who  was  inwardly  afraid  she  might  desire  to  be 
brought  to  his  house,  where  she  would  be  confronted  by 
Miss  Toosypegs,  of  whom  he  stood  in  wholesome  awe. 

Half  an  hour  brought  them  to  the  pier  where  the  vessel 
lay,  and  consigning  little  Raymond  to  the  care  of  one  of  the 
female  passengers,  she  sought  her  berth  with  Erminie.  Until 
England  was  out  of  sight  she  still  dreaded  detection  ;  and, 
therefore,  she  sat  with  feverish  impatience,  longing  to  catch 
the  last  glimpse  of  the  land  wherein  she  was  born.  She 
watched  every  passing  face  with  suspicion,  and  in  every  out- 
stretched hand  she  saw  some  one  about  to  snatch  her  prize 
from  her  ;  and  involuntarily  her  teeth  set,  and  she  held  the 
sleeping  child  in  a  fiercer  clasp. 

Once  she  caught  a  passing  glimpse  of  Mr.  Toosypegs,  a 
victim  to  "  green  and  yellow  melancholy  "  in  its  most  aggra- 
vated form,  as  he  walked  toward  his  berth  in  an  exceedingly 
limp  state  of  mind  and  shirt-collar.  Mr,  Toosypegs  knew 
what  sea-sickness  was  from  experience  ;  he  had  a  distinct 
and  sad  recollection  of  what  he  endured  the  last  time  he 
crossed  the  Atlantic;  and  with  many  an  ominous  foreboding, 
he  ensconced    himself  in  an  arm-chair  in  the  cabin,   while 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


Ill 


the  vesse  rose  ai  d  fell  as  she  danced  over  the  waves.  Si- 
lently he  sat,  as  men  sit  who  await  the  heaviest  blow  Fate 
has  in  store  for  them.  Suddenly  a  stentorian  voice  from 
the  deck  rose  high  above  the  creaking  and  straining  of  ropes 
and  tramping  of  feet,  with  the  words,  "  Heave  ahead." 
Mr.  Toosyixgs  gave  a  convulsive  start,  an  expression  of  in- 
tensest  anguish  passed  over  his  face,  and  suddenly  clapping 
his  handkercaief  to  his  mouth,  he  fled  into  the  silent  depths 
of  the  state-room,  where,  hidden  from  human  view,  what 
passed   was  never  known. 

"Well,  I  never  1"  ejaculated  a  tall,  thin,  sharp  female, 
with  a  sour  fi.ce,  and  a  catankerous  expression  of  counte- 
nance  generally,  who  sat  with  her  hands  folded  over  a  shiny- 
brown  Holland  gown,  as  upright  as  a  church-steeple  and 
about  as  grim.  •'  Well,  I  never  1  going  hand  being  sea-sick 
hafore  he's  ten  minutes  hon  board,  which  his  something 
none  of  the  family  hever  'ad  before,  hand  I've  been  hover 
to  Hireland  without  hever  thinking  of  such  a  thing ;  lying 
there  on  the  broad  hof  his  back,  leaving  me  a  poor,  lone 
woman,  and  groanin'  hevery  time  this  dratted  hold  ship  gives 
a  plunge.which  is  something  that's  not  pleasant  for  a  hun- 
protected  female  to  be,  having  a  lot  hof  disagreeable  sailors, 
smellingof  oakum  and  tar  and  sich,  has  hif  he  couldn  t  wait 
to  be  sea-sick  hafter  we'd  land.  Ugh  I  "  And  Miss  Pris- 
cilia  Dorothea  Toosypegs— for  she  it  was— knit  up  her  face 
in  a  bristle  of  the  sourest  kinks,and  punctuated  her  rather 
rambling   speech   by  sundry  frowns  of  the  most  intensely 

To  describe'  that  voyage  is  not  my  intention  ;  suffice  it  to 
say  that  it  was  an  unusually  speedy  one.  On  the  following 
morning,  the  gipsy  had  appeared  on  deck  with  little  Ermmie, 
whose  gentle  beauty  attracted  universal  attention,  as  her 
nurse's  dark,  stern,  moody  face  did  fear  and  dread.  Many 
hands  were  held  out  for  her,  and  Ketura  willingly  gave  her 
up,  and  consented  to  the  request  of  a  pleasant- faced  young 
girl  who  offered  to  take  charge  of  her  until  they  should  land. 
Master  Raymond  had  already  become  prime  favorite  with  all 
on  board,  more  particularly  with  the  sailors ;  and  could  soon 
run  like  a  monkey  up  the    shrouds  into  the  rigging.     At 

hrst  ne  conaesccnucu  lu    pauum^-    i^i>'. — j  r 

but  on  discovering  she  could  not  climb— in  fact,  could  not 


mya 


112 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


even  stand  on  her  feet  properly — he  began  to  look  down  on 
her  with  a  sort  of  lofty  contempt.  On  the  fifth  day,  Mr. 
Toosypegs  made  his  appearance  on  deck,  a  walking  skele- 
ton. Everybody  laughed  at  his  wobegone  looks;  and  so 
deeply  disgusted  was  Miss  Priscilla  by  his  sea-grtrn  visage, 
that  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  she  would  ever  acknowledge 
the  relationship  again. 

As  every  one  but  Miss  Priscilla  laughed  at  kim,  and  s-he 
scolded  him  unmercifully,  the  unhappy  young  man  was  forced 
to  fly  for  relief  to  Ketura,  whose  silent  grimnejs  was  quite 
delightful  compared  with  either  of  the  others.  Feeling  that 
she  owed  him  something  for  his  kindness,  shs  listened  in 
silence  to  all  his  doleful  complaints  ;  and  this  so  won  upon 
the  susceptible  heart  of  that  unfortunate  youth,  that  he  con- 
tracted quite  an  affection  for  her — just  as  a  lap-dog  has  been 
known  to  make  friends  with  a  tiger  before  now. 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  when  you  get  to  America, 
Mrs.  Ketura  ? "  he  asked  one  day  as  they  sat  together  on  the 
deck, 

"  I  have  not  thought  about  it,"  she  answered  indifferently. 

"  You'll  have  to  do  something,  you  know,"  insinuated  Mr. 
Toosyjiegs.  "  People  always  do  something  in  America. 
They're  real  smart  people  there.  J'm  an  American,  Mrs. 
Ketura,"  added  Mr.  Toosypegs,  complacently. 

A  grim  sort  of  smile,  half  contempt,  half  pity,  passed  over 
the  face  of  the  gipsy. 

"  Telling  fortunes  pays  pretty  well,  I  guess,  but  then  it 
isn't  a  nice  way  to  make  a  living ;  and  besides  that  little 
baby  would  be  real  inconvenient  to  lug  round  with  you,  not 
to  speak  of  that  dreadful  little  boy  who  climbs  up  that  main- 
topgallant  bowsprit — or  whatever  the  nasty  steep  thing's 
name  is.  No;  I  don't  think  telling  fortunes  would  be  ex- 
actly the  thing." 

"  I  shall  manage  some  way;  don't  bother  me  about  it," 
said  gipsy,  impatiently. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  coming  with  us  to  Dismal  Hollow  ? 
There's  plenty  of  room  around  there  for  you ;  and  I  should 
be  real  glad  to  have  you  near,  so  that  I  corld  drop  in  to  see 
you  now  and  then." 


U^ 
ii\. 


V/OUivt 


line 


this  time ;  for  her  stern,  fierce  character  had  a  strange  sort 


S 


mm^mmm 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


113 


it," 


' 


^ 


of  fascination  for  him,  and  he  really  was  beginning  to  feel  a 
strong  attachment  to  her. 

The  real  kindliness  of  his  tone,  his  simple  generosity, 
touched  even  the  granite  heart  of  the  hard  gipsy  queen. 
Lifting  her  eyes,  that  all  this  time  had  been  moodily  gazing 
into  the  dashing,  loam-crested  waves,  she  said,  in  a  softer 
voice  than  he  ever  expected  to  hear  from  her  lips : 

"  I  thank  you  and  accept  your  offer,  and  more  for  M«> 
sake,  however,  than  my  own  " — pointing  to  the  children. 
"  I  could  make  my  way  through  the  world  easily  enough, 
but  they  are  young  and  tender,  and  need  care.  I  will  go 
with  you." 

She  turned  away  as  she  ceased,  as  if  there  was  no  more 
to  be  said  on  the  subject,  and  again  looked  fixedly  down  into 
the  wide  waste  of  waters. 

"  It's  real  good  of  you  to  say  so,  Mrs.  Ketura,  and  I'm 
very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs  with  a 
brightening  up  of  his  pallid  features.  '*  We  will  land  at 
New  York,  and  after  that,  go  to  Dismal  Hollow  via  Baltimore, 
which  means,  Mrs.  Ketura,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  interrupt- 
ing himself,  to  throw  in  a  word  of  explanation,  "  '  by  way  of.' 
It's  Latin,  or  Greek,  I  guess,  though  I  never  learned  either. 
Ugh  1  ain't  Latin  nice,  though  1 "  added  the  owner  of  the 
sickly  complexion,  with  a  grimace  of  intensest  disgust.  "  I 
tried  it  for  six  weeks  one  time,  with  an  apothecary  ;  and  then, 
as  it  began  to  throw  me  into  a  decline,  I  gave  it  up.  Not  any 
more.     I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

Three  days  after  that  the  vessel  touched  the  wharf  at  New 
York.  And  after  two  days'-delay,  which  Mr.  Toosypegs  re- 
quired to  get  his  "land  legs"  on,  they  set  off  for  Baltimore. 

In  due  course  of  time  that  goodly  city  was  reached,  and 
one  week  after,  the  whole  party  arrived  at  Judestown — a 
thriving  country  town  on  the  sea-coast,  called  then  after  the 
first  settler,  but  known  by  another  name,  now. 

Driving  through  the  town,  they  reached  the  suburbs,  and 
entered  a  more  thinly  settled  part  of  the  country.  Gleaming 
here  and  there  through  the  trees,  they  could  catch  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  bright  waters  of  the  Chesapeake,  and  hear 
the  booming  of  the  waves  on  the  low  shore. 

Turning  an  abrupt  angle  in  the  road,  they  drove  down  a 
long,  steep,  craggy  path,  toward  a  gloomy  mountain  gorge,  at 


Hi 


31  va 


114 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


sight  of  which  Mr.  Toosypegs  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to 
take  off  his  hat  and  wave  it  over  his  head,  with  a  feeble 
"Hooray  for  Dismal  Hollow  I  "  which  so  scandalized  that 
strict  Christian,  his  aunt,  that  she  gave  him  a  look  beneath 
which  lie  wilted  down,  and  was  heard  no  mcjre. 

"  What  an  ugly  '^Id  place  !  I  won't  go  there  1"  exclaimed 
little  Raymond,  with  a  strong  expression  of  contempt. 

And  truly  it  did  not  look  very  inviting.  i'hc  mountain, 
which,  by  some  convulsion  of  nature,  seemed  to  have  been 
violently  rent  in  twain,  was  only  passable  by  a  narrow, 
dangerous  briu  -path.  Down  in  the  very  bottom  of  this 
deep,  gloomy  gorge,  stood  an  old,  time-worn  building  of  what 
had  once  been  red  brick,  with  dismal,  black,  broken  window 
shutters,  that  at  some  far-distant  time  might  have  been 
green.  A  range  of  dilapidated  barns  and  outhouses  spread 
away  behind,  and  in  front,  some  hundred  yards  distant,  ron 
a  slender  rivulet,  which  every  spring  became  swollen  into  a 
foaming  torrent. 

Here  the  sun  never  penetrated ;  no  living  creature  was  to 
be  seen,  and  a  more  gloomy  and  dismal  spot  could  hardly 
have  been  found  in  the  wide  world.  Even  the  gipsy  queen 
looked  round  with  a  sort  of  still  amaze  that  any  one  could 
be  found  to  live  here,  while  Miss  Priscilla  elevated  both 
hands  in  horror,  and  in  the  dismay  of  the  moment  was  sur- 
prised into  the  profanity  of  exclaiming:  "Great  Jemimil  " 

"  It's  the  ugliest  old  place  ever  was,  and  I  won't  go  there !  " 
reiterated  Master  Raymond,  kicking  viciously  at  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, to  whom,  with  an  inward  presentiment,  he  felt  he  owed 
his  coming. 

'*  It  is  rather  dull-looking,  now,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
apologetically  ;  •'  but  wait  till  we  get  it  fixed  up  a  little,  after 
a  spell.  The  niggers  have  let  things  go  to  waste  since  I 
went  away." 

"  Humph  !  Should  think  they  had  !"  said  Miss  Priscilla, 
with  a  disdainful  sniff.  "  Nothing  but  treeses,  and  rockses, 
and  mountainses  split  hin  two;  hand  what  your  blessed 
father,  which  lies  now  a  hangel  in  some  nasty,  swampy  grave- 
yard, could  have  been  thinking  habout,  with  that  'orrid  little 
river  hafore  the  door,  to  build  a  'oi;r.e  in  sich  a  sp't,  which 
must  hoverfiow  hevery  time  hit  i-^nn,  hu>  more  iLun  I  can 
tell— drowning  us  hin  hour  beas,  as  it  will  be   sure  to  do 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


115 


.wme  fine  morning  or  bother.  VVah  !  wah  !"  And  with  this 
final  expression  of  disgust,  given  in  a  tone  of  scorn  no  words 
can  expresb  the  ancient  virgir.  i.ui'cred  herself  to  be  hand- 
ed from  the  a  agon  by  her  dul  •  nephew  and  depos'ttd  in 
a  mud-puddle  before  the  door  to  the  great  benefit  of  her 
stockings  and  temper. 

The  noi'^e  of  wlic'ls,  a  very  unusual  noise  th' re  brought 
some  half-N  ^re  of  Icm,  hungry-looking  curs  fi<  m  some  un- 
seen region,  who  instantly  began  a  furious  yilping  and  bark- 
ing. Miss  Priscill.)  set  up  a  series  of  short,  sharp  little 
screams,  and  jumped  up  on  a  rock  in  mort.il  terror  ;  little 
Erminie,  terrified  by  the  noise,  began  to  cry  ;  Master  Ray- 
mond yelled  to  the  dogs  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  and  plunged 
headforemost  in  among  them;  Mr.  Toosyixgs  went  through 
all  the  phases  of  the  potential  mood — "  cxorting,  entreating, 
commanding,*' — and  a  general  uproar  ensued  that  would  have 
shamed  Babel. 

The  hubbub  and  din  roused  the  inmates,  at  last,  as  it 
might  very  easily  have  done  the  Seven  Sleepers  themselves. 

A  shuffling  tread  of  feet  was  heard  within,  and  then  a 
trembling  voice  demanded: 

"  Who  dar  ?" 

"  It's  me.  Open  the  door,  for  goodness'  sake  1"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  an  agony  of  supplicatu  m. 

«'  We's  got  yarms,  and  dar  ain't  nottinj  in  de  house  for 
you  to  rob,  so  you'd  better  go  'way,"  said  .  quavering  voice, 
that  evidently  strove  in  vain  to  be  courageous. 

"  IVill yon  open  the  door  ?  I  tell  you  it's  only  me!  "  shouted 
the  deeply-exasperated  Mr.  Toosypegs,  seizing  the  handle  of 
the  door  and  giving  it  a  furious  shake. 

Cautiously  the  door  was  partly  opened,  a  terrified  voice 
was  heard  to  whisper:  "  You  hit  dem  wid  dt  poker  arter  I 
fire,"  and  then  the  frowning  muzzles  of  tv.  o  huge  horse- 
pistols  met  their  dismayed  eyes. 

"Don't  shoot — it's  meI"  yelled  the  terro  stricken  Mr. 
Toosypegs;  but  his  words  were  lost  in  the  b.  ng  I  bang  1  of 
the  pistols  as  thev  went  oflf. 

"  Oh,  Lord,  have  mercy  on  me  1  I'm  shot  I  '  shriektd  the 
unhappy  Mr.  Toosypegs,  as  he  dropped  like  ;  stone  in  the 
mud,  and  lay  motionless. 

"  Hand    me  de    brunderingbuss — quick,    P  mp  1     Dar's 


-«ir.; 


"WU 


•3i! 


Ii6 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


more  o*  dem,"  again  whispered  the  chattering  voice ;  and 
once  more  the  warlike  individual  within  blazed  away,  while 
Miss  Priscilla  lay  kicking  in  the  strongest  hysterics,  and  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  flat  on  his  face  in  the  mud,  lay  as  rigid  and  still 
as  a  melancholy  corpse. 

So  completely  amazed  was  the  gipsy  queen  by  all  this, 
that  she  stood  motionless,  with  Erminie  in  her  arms.  Now 
the  door  was  slowly  opened,  and  a  negro's  face,  gray  with 
terror,  was  protruded.  His  round,  goggle  eyes,  starling  from 
his  head  with  f-,ar,  fell  on  the  prostrate  forms  of  Miss  Pris- 
cilla and  her  unfortunate  nephew. 

"  Two  ob  dem  gone,  bress  de  Lord  1"  piously  ejaculated 
Cuffce.  "  It  takes  me  for  to  do  de  bisiness.  Well,  bress 
Mars'r!  if  I  ain't  had  a  fight  for't."  Then  catching  sight 
of  the  gipsy,  he  paused  suddenly,  and  jumped  back,  and 
raised  the  discharged  blunderbuss,  but  no  effort  could  make 
it  go  oil  a  second  time. 

"  Are  you  mad,  fellow  ?  "  exclaimed  the  deep,  command- 
ing voice  of  Ketura.     "  Would  you  murder  your  master  ?  " 

'•  Young  mars'r  hab  gone  ;  an'  ef  you  don't  cl'ar  right  out 
dar'U  be  more  blood  shed  !"  exclaimed  the  negro,  still  keep- 
ing his  formidable  weapon  cocked. 

"  I  tell  you  this  is  your  master  1"  impatiently  exclaimed 
Ketura.  "  He  arrived  to-day ;  and  now  you  have  shot 
him." 

Slowly  the  blunderbuss  was  lowered,  as  if  the  conviction 
that  she  might  be  speaking  the  truth  was  slowly  coming 
home  to  the  mind  of  her  hearer.  Cautiously  he  left  his  post 
of  danger  and  approached  his  prostrate  foe.  Gathering  cour- 
age from  his  apparent  lifelessness,  he  at  last  ventured  to 
turn  him  over,  and  all  smeared  and  clotted  with  mud,  the  pal- 
lid features  of  Mr.  Toosypegs  were  upturned  to  the  light. 
His  arms  were  stretched  stiffly  out  by  his  side,  as  much  like 
a  corpse  as  possible  ;  his  eyes  were  tightly  closed  ;  ditto  his 
lips,  all  covered  with  soft  mud. 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  face.  With  a  loud  howl  of 
distress,  the  negro  threw  himself  upon  the  lifeless  form  of 
poor  Mr.  Toosypegs. 

"  Ah  !  You've  got  your  elbow  in  the  pit  of  my  stomach  1  " 
exclaimed  the  corpse,  with  a  sharp  yell  of  pain.  "  Can't 
you  get  out  of  that,  and  let  me  die  in  peace  ?  " 


^m^^BlMj 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


117 


For  the  first  time  in  two  years  the  gipsy,  Ketura,  laughed. 
In  fact,  they  would  have  been  more  than  mortal  who  could 
have  beheld  that  unspeakably-ludicrous  scene  without  do- 
ing so. 

Miss  Priscilla  stopped  her  hysterical  kicking  and  plung- 
ing, and  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  to  look. 

The  negro,  with  a  whoop  of  joy  that  might  have  startled 
a  Shawnee  Indian,  seized  Mr.  Toosyp)egs,  who  had  shut  his 
eyes  and  composed  himself  for  death  again,  save  an  occa- 
sional splutter  as  the  mud  went  down  his  throat,  and  swing- 
ing him  over  his  shoulder  as  if  he  had  been  a  limp  towel, 
rushed  with  him  in  triumph  into  the  house. 

"  He  warn't  dead,  then,  haftcr  hall  ?  "  said  Miss  Priscilla, 
sharply,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  made  of  steel-springs. 
"  Well,  I  never  1  Going  hand  fright'ning  respectable  par- 
ties hout  their  wits  with  'orrid  black  niggers,  firing  hoft  of 
pistols  hand  cannons;  lying  therein  the  mud  making  believe 
dead ;  hand  shooting  me  somewhere — for  I  can  feel  the 
balls  hinside  hof  me ;  sp'iling  a  good  new  suit  hof  clothes, 
rolling  there  like  a  pig,  and  not  dead  hafter  hall ;  hand  that 
there  nigger  shooting  away  like  mad  hall  the  time,  which  his 
a  mercy  to  be  thankful  for  !     Wah  !  wah  1  " 

And,  with  her  usual  look  of  sour  disgust  immeasurably 
heightened,  Miss  Priscilla  gathered  up  her  own  muddy  skirts 
and  marched,  like  a  loaded  rifle  all  ready  to  go  ofit",  into  a 
long,  black,  chill,  littered  hall. 

Half  a  dozen  frightened  darkies  were  crouching  in  the 
further  corner,  and  on  these  Miss  Priscilla  turned  the  muz- 
zle of  the  rifle,  and  a  sharp  volley  of  oddly-jumbled  up  sen- 
tences went  off  in  tones  of  keenest  irony. 

"  Yes  ;  you  may  stand  there,  you  hugly  black  leeches, 
hafter  shooting  us  hevery  one — though  looks  ain't  hof  no 
consequence  in  this  horrid  place  ;  hand  hif  you  don't  get 
'ung  for  it  some  day,  my  name  hain't  Priscilla  Dorothea 
Toosypegs !  Perhaps  you'll  show  me  where  my  nevvy  his, 
which  you've  shot  so  nicely,  hand  make  a  fire,  hafter  keep- 
ing hus  rolling  hin  the  mud,  getting  our  death  hof  cold 
in  this  'orrid  cold  'ouse,  which,  being  a  respectable  female, 
hand  not  a  pig,  I  hain't  used  to  ;  hand  Hamerica  mud  hain't 
the  nicest  thing  I  ever  saw  for  to  eat ;  so  maybe  you'll  get 
hus  some  dinner,  hand  show  me  to  where  my  nevvy  his,   hif 


JLfcAJJRftii 


JELWCL 


ii8 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


you  please,"  concluded  Miss  Priscilla,  in  tones  of  most  cut- 
ting irony. 

The  terrified  servants  understood  enough  of  this  singular 
address  to  know  Miss  Toosypegs  wished  for  a  fire,  her  din- 
ner, and  her  nephew.  An  old  woman,  therefore,  in  a  gaudy 
Madras  turban,  advanced,  and  led  the  way  up  a  rickety 
flight  of  stairs  into  a  comfortless-looking  room,  with  a  damp, 
unaired  odor,  where,  on  a  bed,  lay  the  mortal  remains  of 
O.  C.  Toosypegs,  with  the  darkey — whose  name  I  may  as 
well  say  at  once  was  Cupid— giving  him  a  most  vigorous  rub- 
bing, which  extorted  from  the  dead  man  sundry  groans  and 
grimaces  and  encouraged  Cupid  to  still  further  exertions. 

The  loaded  rifle  advanced  to  the  bedside,  and  a  second 
volley  wen    off. 

"  Come,  Horlander  Toosypegs,  get  hup  hout  o'  that,  lying 
there  in  this  musty  hold  room,  face  and  hall  plastered  hover 
with  mud,  which  his  enough  to  give  you  the  rheumatism  the 
longest  day  you  live,  without  the  first  spark  hof  a  fire — so  it 
is!" 

"  I'm  dying.  Aunt  Priscilla ;  stay  with  me  to  the  last !  "in 
the  faintest  whisper,  responded  Mr.  Toosypegs,  languidly 
opening  his  eyes,  and  then  shutting  them  again. 

"  Dying  ?  Wah,  wah  I  "  grunted  Miss  Priscilla,  catching 
him  by  the  shoulder  and  shaking  him  with  no  gentle  hand. 
"  Pretty  corpse  you'll  make,  hall  hover  with  mud,  hand  looks 
has  much  like  dying  has  I  do." 

"  De  brunderingbuss  an'  de  pissels  war  only  loaded  wid 
powder— no  shot  in  'em  at  all.  'Deed,  old  missus,  he  ain't 
hurted  the  fustest  mite,  only  he  t'inks  so." 

"  Hold  1  "  shrieked  Miss  Priscilla,  turning  fiercely  upon 
Cupid.  "  You  impident  black  nigger,  you !  to  call  me  hold  I 
Leave  the  room  this  very  minute,  hand  never  let  me  see  your 
hugly,  black  face  hagain  I  " 

"  Come— you  are  not  hurt — get  up  I  "  said  Ketura,  going 
over  to  the  bedside,  as  poor  Cupid,  crestfallen,  slunk  away. 
"  There  is  not  a  hair  of  your  head  injured.  Up  with 
you  1  " 

"  Am  I  not  shot  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Toosypegs,  bewildered. 
"  Did  the  bullet  not  enter  my  brain  ?  " 

"  You  never  had  any  for  it  to  enter,"  said  the  gipsy,  en- 


v.mmmmuimmtml, 


■"T"""-'"'  mr"' 


THE  NEW  HOME. 


119 


nost  cut- 
singular 
her  din- 
I  a  gaudy 
a  rickety 
1  a  damp, 
mains  of 
[  may  as 
irous  rub- 
Dans  and 
tions. 
a  second 

lat,  lying 
ed  hover 
itism  the 
re — so  it 

last!  "in 
languidly 

catching 
tie  hand, 
ind  looks 

ided  wid 
he  ain't 

sly  upon 
me  hold  1 
;  see  your 

ra,  going 
ink  away. 
Up   with 

iwildered. 

jipsy,  en- 


couragingly.    "  Look  yourself ;  there  is  neither  wound  nor 
blood." 

"  No ;  but  it's  bleeding  inwardly,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
with  a  hollow  groan.     "Oh,    I  know    I'm  a  dead  man  I  " 

"  Chut  I  I  have  no  patience  with  you  I  Get  up,  man  1  you 
are  as  well  as  ever !  "  impatiently  exclaimed  Ketura. 

Slowly  Mr.  Toospyegs,  who  had  immense  faith  in  Ketura, 
lifted  first  one  arm  and  then  another  to  see  if  either  were 
powerless.  Satisfied  on  this  point,  he  next  lifted  each  leg ; 
and  finding,  to  his  great  astonishment,  that  his  limbs  were 
all  sound,  lie  carefully  began  to  raise  himself  up  in  bed.  No 
torrent  of  blood  followed  this  desperate  attempt,  as  he  ex- 
pected there  would  be ;  and  the  next  minute,  Mr.  Orlando 
Toosypegs  stood,  safe  and  sound,  on  the  floor,  looking  about 
as  sheepish  a  young  gentleman  as  you  would  find  from 
Maine  to  Florida. 

"  You  thought  you  was  gone — didn't  you  ?  "  said  the  little 
witch,  Raymond,  with  a  malicious  chuckle  of  delight,  as  he 
watched  the  chopfallen  hero  of  the  pallid  features. 

Miss  Toosypegs  merely  contented  herself  with  a  look  of 
\')hy  contempt  more  withering  than  words,  and  then  rustled 
out  to  rouse  up  the  "  hugly  black  leeches"  on  the  subject  of 
dinners  and  fires. 

Having  succeeded  in  both  objects  especially  in  the  dinner 
department,  which  Aunt  Bob,  the  presiding  deity  of  the 
kitchen,  had  got  up  in  sublime  style.  Miss  Priscilla  was  in 
somewhat  better  humor  ;  and  having  announced  her  inten- 
tion of  beginning  a  thorough  reformation  both  out  doors  and 
in,  turned  briskly  to  her  nephew,  who  sat  in  a  very  dejected 
state  of  mind,  without  so  much  as  a  word  to  say  for  himself, 
and  exclaimed ; 

"  Now,  Horlander,  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is,  to  go  im- 
mediately hand  see  habout  getting  a  'ouse  for  Mrs.  Ketura 
hand  the  children,  which  would  never  survive  a  day  in  this 
damp  hold  barn  ;  besides,  being  to  do  some  time  or  bother, 
it  mayhas  well  be  did  first  has  last,  hand  save  the  ,spense 
hof  a  doctor's  bill,  which  his  the  hunpleasantest  thing  hever 
was  stuck  hin  hanybody's  face." 

Mr.  Toosypegs,  who  felt  he  would  never  more  dare  to 
call  his  soul  his  own,  meekly  put  on  his  hat,  and  said  he 
would  go  and  see  about  a  ccUage  he  knew   of  which  would 


m 


:aiva 


120  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

suit  Mrs.  Ketura   to  a  T.     The  fact  was,  he  was  glad  to 
escape  from  his  aur.t ;  and  that  good  lady,  who  had  classed 
Mrs   Ketura  and  the  children  under  the  somewhat  indefinite 
title  of  "  riff-raff"  from  the  first,  was  equally  anxious  to  be 

''VateuiTt  evening,  Mr.  Toosypegs  returned,  with  the  satis- 
factory  news  that  he  had  obtained  the  cottage,  which  be- 
longed, he  informed  them,  to  a  certain  Admiral  Havenful,  who 
not  having  any  particular  use  for  it  himself,  said  they  might 
have  it  rcntfree.     The  cottage  was  furnished ;  just  as  it  had 
been  let  by  its  last  tenant;  and  Mrs.  Ketura  might  pitch  her 
tent  there,  with  a  safe  conscience,  as  fast  as  she  liked.         ^ 
"  You  had  better  take  one  of  the  servants  with  you,  too, 
said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  good-naturedly;  "  we  have  rnore  than 
we  want,  and  you  will  require  one  to  mind  the  baby,  and 
fetch  water,  and  do  chores.     I  think  Lucy  will  do  as  well  as 

Miss  Toosypegs  frowned  at  first ;  but  remembering,  upon 
second  thoughts  that  there  was  already  a  tribe  of  useless 
negroes  and  dogs,  eating  them  out  of  house  and  home,  she 
gave  a  sharp  assent,  at  last,  to  her  nephew's  arrangement. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  Ketura,  Ray- 
mond, Erminie,  and  the  negress,  Lucy,  entered  the  wagon, 
and  turned  their  backs  upon  Dismal  Hollow. 

Half  an  hour's  drive  through  a  forest-road,  all  aglow  with 
the  leafy  splendor  of  early  July,  brought  them  to  the  sea- 
shore     Far  removed    from    any  other  habitation,  stood  a 
pretty  little  whitewashed  cottage,  a  little  fair>'-bandbox  of  a 
place,  on  a  bank  above  the  sea,  nestling  like  a  pearl   set  m 
emerdds  as  it  gleamed  through  a  wilderness  of   vmes  and 
shrubs.     A  wide,  dry,  arid  expanse,  overrun  with  blueberry 
and   cranberry   vines,  spread  before   the   door  toward  the 
north,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.    Far  in  the  distance, 
they  could  see  a  iiuge  house,  of  a  dazzling  whiteness    un- 
shaded by  tree  or  vine,  as  it  stood  in  the  fvill  glare  of  the 
hot  sun, 'dazzling  the  eye  of  the  g-er    This    Mr    Toosy- 
pegs gave  them  to  understand,  was  the  "  White  Squall,    the 
residence  of  Admiral  Havenful;  and  the  dry  plains  spread- 
inn  into  the  distance  were  very  appropriately  known  as  the 
"  Barrens."    South  and  east,  a  dense  forest  snut  mtne  view, 
and  to  the  west  spread  out  the  boundless  sea. 


"AFTER  MANY  DAYS. 


X2I 


was  glad  to 
D  had  classed 
hat  indefinite 
inxious  to  be 

viththe  satis- 
;e,  which  be- 
lavenful,  who, 
id  they  might 
just  as  it  had 
ght  pitch  her 
le  liked, 
ath  you,  too," 
ve  more  than 
the  baby,  and 
I  do  as  well  as 

Tibering,  upon 
ibe  of  useless 
.nd  home,  she 
rrangement. 
Ketura,  Ray- 
ed the  wagon, 

all  aglow  with 
em  to  the  sea- 
ation,  stood  a 
^-bandbox  of  a 
;  a  pearl    set  in 
J  of   vines  and 
with  blueberry 
lor  toward  the 
1  the  distance, 
whiteness,  un- 
lU  glare  of  the 
lis,  Mr.  Toosy- 
\te  Squall,"  the 
plains  spread- 
y  known  as  the 
shut  la  the  vievr. 
a. 


"  No"  ,  Mrs.  Ketura,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  mysteri- 
ous whisper,  "  you  can't  live  upon  green  vines  and  blue- 
berries, nor  yet  you  can't  stay  in  this  cottage  from  morning 
till  night,  you  know,  though  I  dare  say  Aunt  Priscilla  thinks 
you  can.  Therefore  you  must  take  this  purse — half  of  which 
the  admiral  gave  me  for  you  last  night,  and  the  other  half — 
well,  no  matter.  Then,  as  you'll  want  to  go  to  Judestown  to 
market,  and  to  church,  sometimes,  I'll  send  over  the  pony 
and  the  old  buggy ;  but  don't  you  say  a  word  about  it  to 
Aunt  Priscilla — womeii  don't  need  to  know  anything,  you 
know,  as  they  don't  always  view  things  in  their  proper  lights 
and  Aunt  Priscilla's  queer  any  way.  If  there's  anything  else 
you  want,  just  you  send  Lucy  Tor  it  to  Dismal  Hollow,  and 
you  shall    have  it,  Mrs.   Ketura,  for  I  like  you    real  well." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  the  gipsy,  again  touched  by 
his  good-nature  ;  "  and  I  hope  you  will  always  regard  your- 
self as  one  of  the  family." 

"  Hark  you,  Mrs.Ketura,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  tone  of 
delight.  "  1  certainly  will,  since  you  wish  it.  Til  drop  in 
very  often.     I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

And,  waving  his  hand  briskly,  Mr.  Toosypegs  resumed 
his  seat  in  the  wagon,  and  drove  off  again  to  Dismal  Hol- 
low. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


AFTER    MANY    DAYS. 


"  I  will  paint  her  as  I  see  her. 
Ten  times  have  the  lilies  blown 
Since  she  looked  upon  the  sun." 

—Browning. 

And  ten  years  passed  away. 

It  was  a  jocund  morning  in  early  spring.  From  the  pine 
woods  came  the  soft  twittering  of  innumerable  birds,  filling 
the  air  with  melody  ;  while  the  soft,  fragrant  odor  of  the  tall 
swinging  pines  came  floating  on  every  passing  breeze.  The 
sun  rose  in  unclouded  splendor  above  the  darktree-tops,  and 
the  bright  waves  of  the  Chesapeake  danced  and  flashed  in 


i  i'l 


rr;^«:<». 


122 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I:  I 


the  golden  rays.  No  sound  broke  the  deep,  profound  still- 
ness of  the  wide,  dry  moor ;  no  living  thing,  save  now  and 
then  some  solitary  bird  that  skimmed  along  over  the  fern, 
was  to  be  seen.  Far  away  in  every  direction  nothing  met 
the  eye  but  the  blue,  unclouded  sky  above,  and  the  bleak, 
arid  barrens  below,  that  lay  hot  and  dry  In  the  glare  of  the 
morning  sunshine. 

Suddenly  the  sylvan  silence  of  the  spot  was  bioken  by 
the  clear,  sweet  notes  of  a  hunting-horn,  that  startled  the 
echoes  far  and  near,  and  the  next  moment  the  forms  of  a 
horse  and  rider  came  dashing  over  the  moor. 

The  horse  was  a  splendid  animal,  a  small,  jet-black  Ara- 
bian, with  graceful,  tapering  limbs,  arching  neck,  flowing 
mane,  and  small,  erect  head,  and  bright,  fiery  eyes.  His 
rider  was  a  young  girl  of  some  twelve  years,  who  sat  her 
horse  like  an  Arab  hunter,  and  whose  dark,  unique  style  of 
beauty  merits  a  wider  description. 

She  was  very  slight  and  rather  tall  for  her  age ;  but  with  a 
finely  proportioned  figure,  displayed  now  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage by  her  well-fitting  riding  habit — which  consisted  of  a 
skirt  of  dark-green  cloth,  a  tight  basque  of  black  velvet. 
Her  face  was  thin  and  dark  and  somewhat  elfish,  but  the 
olive  skin  was  smooth  as  satin,  and  deepening  with  deepest 
crimson  in  the  thin  cheeks  and  lips.  Her  forehead  was  low 
broad,  and  polished  ;  her  saucy  little  nose  decidedly  retrousse  ; 
her  teeth  like  pearls,  and  her  hands  and  feet  perfect.  And 
then  her  eyes — such  great,  black,  lustrous,  glorious  eyes, 
through  which  at  times  a  red  light  shone — such  splendid 
eyes,  vailed  by  long,  jetty,  silken  lashes,  and  arched  by 
glossy  black  eyebrows,  smooth  and  shining  as  water-leeches 
— eyes  full  of  fun,  frolic,  freedom,  and  dauntless  daring — 
eyes  that  would  haunt  the  memory  of  the  beholder  for  many  a 
day.  Her  hair,  "woman's  crowning  glory,"  was  of  intensest 
blackness,  and  clustered  in  short,  dancing  curls  round 
her  dark,  bright,  sparkling  face.  In  the  shade  those  curls 
were  of  midnight  darkness,  but  in  sunshine,  red  rings  of 
fire  shone  through  like  tiny  circlets  of  flame.  She  wore  a 
small,  black  velvet  hat,  whose  long  sable  plume  just  touched 
her  warm,  crimson  cheek. 

Such  was  the  huntress,  who  with  a  pistol  stuck  in  her  belt, 
a  little  rifle  swung  across  her  shoulder,  dashed  along  over 


*•  AFTER  MANY  DAWS. 


123 


the  moor,  holding  the  bridle  lightly  in  one  hand,  and  swing- 
ing jauntily,  a  silver-mounted  riding  whip  in  the  other. 

As  she  reached  the  center  of  the  moor,  she  reined  in  her 
horse  so  suddenly  that  he  nearly  reared  upright,  and  then, 
lifting  her  little  silver  bugle  again  to  her  lips,  she  blew  a 
blast  that  echoed  in  notes  of  clearest  melody  far  over  the 
heath. 

This  time  her  signal  was  answered — a  loud  shout  from  a 
spirited  voice  met  her  ear,  and  in  another  instant  another 
actor  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

He,  too,  was  mounted,  and  rode  his  horse  well.  He  was 
a  tall,  slender  stripling  of  alxjut  fifteen,  and  in  some  ways 
not  unlike  the  girl.  He  had  the  same  dark  complexion,  the 
same  fiery  black  eyes  and  hair  ;  but  there  all  resemblance 
oeased.  The  look  of  saucy  drollery  on  her  face  was  re- 
placed on  his  by  a  certain  fierce  pride — an  expression  at 
once  haughty  and  daring.  He  was  handsome,  exceedingly, 
with  regular,  classical  features,  a  perfect  form,  and  had  that 
mark  of  high  birth,  the  small  and  exquisitely-shap'^d  ear, 
and  thin  curving  nostril.  Erect  he  sat  in  his  saddle,  like 
a  young  prince  of  the  blood. 

"  Bon  matin,  Monsieur  Raymond !  "  shouted  the  girl,  as 
he  gallantly  raised  his  cap  and  let  the  morning  breeze  lift 
his  dark  locks.  "  I  thought  the  sun  would  not  find  you  in 
bed  the  first  morning  after  your  return  home.  How  does 
your  serene  highness  find  yourself  ?  " 

"  In  excellent  health  and  spirits.  I'm  very  much  obliged 
to  you — as  our  friend  Mr.  Toosypegs  would  say,"  answered 
Master  Raymond,  for  he  it  is,  as  he  laughingly  rode  up  be- 
side her.     "  Where's  Ranty  ?  " 

"  In  bed.  That  fellow's  as  lazy  as  sin,  and  would  rather 
lie  there,  sleeping  like  some  old  grampus,  than  enjoy  a  ride 
over  the  hills  the  finest  morning  that  ever  was." 

•' How  do  you  know  grampuses  are  fond  of  sleeping?" 
said  Raymond. 

"  How  do  I  know  ? "'  said  the  girl,  in  a  high  key,  getting 
somewhat  indignant.  "  I  know  very  well  they  are  ?  Doesn't 
Miss  Toosypegs,  when  she's  talking  about  Orlando  sleeping 
in  the  morning,  always  say  he's  '  snoring  like   a  grampus  '? 

rnnA    if    A^^icc    Pric/^illi    /-l/-if>cn 'f   Irnnuj     that'*;     Hppn     tr»     F.nclanH 

" '    ■ '  •  •■ - ; —    — 't> » 

and  every  place  el .«,,  I  would  like  to  know  who  does  1 " 


.,^, 


134 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i( 


i  Well,  I've  been  to  England,  too,"  said  Raymond. 

..  Yes  and  a  great  deal  of  good  it's  done  you  1  said  the 
young  lady,  contemptuously.  "  But  that's  the  way  always^ 
Ever  since  Ranty  and  you  went  to  college,  you've  got  so 
ftuck  up  and  Joi  Latin  and  Greek,  and  stuff  there's  no 
sanding  either  of  you.  Last  night,  Ranty  had  to  go  and 
ask  aunt  Deb  for  the  bootjack  in  Latin,  and  when  she 
couldn't  understand  him,  he  went  round  kicking  the  cat  and 
mv  nine  beautiful  kittens,  in  the  most  awful  manner  tha 
ever   w-xs;    and    swearing    at    her    in    Greek-the    hateful 

""^And  Miss  Petronilla  Lawless  scowled  at  Raymond,  who 

^^^fJ^lVSe'now,  Pet,  don't  be  angry  1  "  he  said^ 
..  Where's  the   use  of  quarreling  the   very  hrst  morning  we 

""Quarreling!"  repeated  Miss  Pet,  shortly  :  "  I'm  sure  I 
don'?  wlnt  to  quarrel;  but  you're  so^  aggravating.  Boys 
always  are  just  the  hatefulest  things— 

.'^75/ hateful,  Miss  Lawless,"  amended  Raymond,  gravely. 
"  There's  a  great  deal  of  good  sense  but  bad  grammar  in 
that  sentence.     I  don't  like  boys  mys. "  half  so  well ^as  I  do 
girls-for  instance,  you're  worth  a  dozen  of  Ranty. 
^  .'  Yes  •  vou  say  si  now,  when  Ranty  ain't  listening ;  but 
if  vou  wanted  to  go  off  on  some  mischief  or  other,  I  guess 
vou  wouldn't  think  of  me.     But  that's  the  way   I'm  always 
[reated,  pitched  round  like  an  old  shoe,  without  even  daring 

to  sav  a  word  for  myself."  ,•     i    ,     ^Uc 

This  melancholy  view  of   things,  more    particularly    he 
idea   of  Miss  Pet's  not  having  a  "  word  to  say  [or  herself, 
str^k  Raymond  as  so  inexpressibly  ludicrous,  that  he  gave 
vent  to  a  shout  of  laughter.  uu„tit'^ 

«  Yes  vou  may  laugh !  "  said  Pet,  indignantly  ;  '  but  t  s 
true  and  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  making  fun 
of  people  in  this  wav.  I  am  not  going  to  stand  being  im- 
pofe^  upon  much  longer,  either  1  If  Miss  P-al  a  kee^p 
snubbing  and  putting  down  Mr.  Toosypegs  all  the  time,  that 
T't  no^reason  why  I'm  to  be  snubbed  and  put  downtoo-is 

it  ?  " 

■»  Why  Pet,  what's  the  matter  with  you  this  morning?" 
exclaimed  Raymond.     "  I  never  knew  you  so  cross  ;  ha^  the 


"AFTER  MANY  DAYS." 


125 


judge  scolded  you,  or  have  you  bagged  no  game,  or  has  your 

pony  cast  a  shoe,  or — "  ,  .  „  ,     1     •    -n^* 

"No,  none  of  them  things  has  happened  I  broke  m  Pet, 
crossly  "  I  suppose  you'd  keep  on  or,  or,  or-ing  till  dooms- 
day  if  I  let  you !  It's  worse  still,  and  I  wouldn't  mmd 
much  if  you  shot  me  on  the  sp^tl "  said  Pet,  in  a  tone  of 
such  deep  desperation  that  Raymond  looked  at  her  m  real 

alarm.  ...  1 

"  Why,  Pet,  what  has  happened  ?  "  he  mquired,  anxiously, 

"  Nothing  really  serious,  I  hope." 

'«  Yes,  it  is  really  serious.     I'm  going  to  be  sent  to  school 
—there  now  I  "  said  Pet,  as  near  crying  as  an  elf  could  be. 

««  Oh  1  is  that  all  ?  "  said  Raymond,  immeasurably  relieved. 
«'  Well   I  don't  see  anything  so  very  dreadful  in  that." 

"  Don't  you,  indeed  ?  "  exclaimed  Pet,  witn  flashing  eyes. 
•'Well,  if  there's  anything  more  dreadful,  I'd  like  to  know 
what  it  is  1  To  be  cooped  up  in  a  great  dismal  dungeon  of 
a  schoolhouse  from  one  year's  end  to  t'other,  and  never  get 
a  chance  to  sneeze  without  asking  leave  first.  I  won't  go, 
either,  if  I  die  for  it  1  " 

"  And  so  you'll  grow  up  and  not  know  B  from  a  cow  s 
horn,"  said   Raymond.     "  I   am   sure  you  need  to  go  bad 

enough."  ,  ^         ,,  _ 

"  I  don't  need  it,  either  1  "  angrily  retorted  Pet.  I  can 
read  first-rate  now,  without  spelling  more  than  h-alf  the 
words ;  and  write— I  wish  you  could  see  how  beautifully  I 
can  make  some  of  the  letters  1 "  ,  ,  • 

"  Oh  1  I  saw  a  specimen  yesterday— Minnie  showed  it  to 
me— looked  as  if  a  hen  had  dipped  her  foot  in  an  ink-bottle 
and  clawed  it  over  the  paper." 

"  Why,  you  horrid,  hateful,  sassy " 

«'  Abandoned,  impertinent  young  man  1 "  interrupted  Ray- 
mond. "  There  1  I've  helped  you  out  with  it.  And  now 
look  here,  Pet,  how  do  you  expect  to  be  raised  to  the  dig- 
nity of  my  wife,  some  day,  if  you  don't  learn  something  .^ 
Why,  when  we  are  married,  you'll  have  to  make  your  mark  1 

"  I've  a  good  mind  to  do  t  now  with  my  whip !  '  ex- 
claimed Pet,  flourishing  it  in  dangerous  proximity  to  his 
head.  "Your  wife,  indeed  1  I  guess  notl  I'm  to  be  a 
President's  lady  sowe  day,  Aunt  Deb  says.  Catch  me  mar- 
rying you  I  " 


Ki 


"¥i: 


^ai^ 


136 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I    f 


««  Well,  that  will  be  your  loss.     Where  is  the  judge  going 

to  send  you  ?  "  .  ,       t    •   . 

"  Why,  he  says  to  the  Sacred  Heart ;  but  I  am  t  gone 
yet  I  I'd  a  heap  sooner  go  to  Judestown,  with  Minnie,  to 
that  school  where  all  the  boys  and  girls  go  together.  Oh, 
Ray  1  there  are  just  the  nicest  boys  ever  was  there— 'spe- 
cially one  with  the  beautifulest  red  cheeks,  and  the  loveliest 
bright  buttons  on  his  coat  ever  you  seen  I  " 
And  Pet's  eyes  sparkled  at  the  recollection. 
"  Who  is  he  ?  "  said  Raymond,  who  did  not  look  by  any 
means  so  delighted  as  Pet  fancied  he  should. 

"  His  name's  Bobby  Brown ;  and  only  he's  all  as  yellow 
as  the  yolk  of  an  egg  ever  since  he  had  the  ja'nders,  he'd  be 
real  pretty.  But  I'm  getting  hungry.  Ray.  I'll  race  you  to 
the  cottage,  and  bet  you  anything  I'll  beat  you  1 " 

"  Done  1  "  cried  Ray,  catching  the  excitement  now  spark- 
ling in  the  dark,  brilliant  face  of  the  little  fay  beside  him  ; 
and  crushing  his  cap  down  over  his  thick  curls,  he  bounded 
after  her  as  she  dashed  away. 

But  Pet  was  better  mounted,  and  the  best  /ider  of  the  two  ; 
and  a  ringing,  triumphant  laugh  came  borne  tantalizingly  to 
his  ears  as  she  distanced  him  by  full  twenty  yards,  and  gal- 
loped up  to  the  little  white  cottage  on  the  Barrens. 

"  Fairly  beaten  1  "  he  said,  laughing,  as  he  sprung  off. 
« I  am  forced  to  own  myself  conquered,  though  I  hate  to  do 

it " 
'Though   he   laughed,    his  look   of    intense  mortification 

showed  how  galling  was  defeat  •     ,  .     *u 

"  Ahem  1  and  how  do  you  expect  to  be  raised  to  the 
dienity  of  my  husband  some  day,  if  you  don't  learn  to  ride 
better  ?  Why,  when  we're  married,  I'll  have  to  give  you 
lessons  1 "  said  Pet,  demurely  ;  though  her  wicked  eyes  were 
twinkling  with  irrepressible  fun  under  their  long  lashes. 

«'  Oh  I  see  I  "  said  Ray,  gayly.  "  Poetical  justice,  eh  ? 
Paying  me  in  my  own  coin  ?  Well,  if  you  can  beat  me  m 
riding,  you  can't  in  anything  else  1  " 

"Can't  I,  though?"  said  Pet,  defiantly.  "  Just  you  try 
target-shooting,  or  pulling  a  stroke  oar  with  me,  and  you  11 
see  1  Schools  where  they  teach  you  the  Greek  for  bootjack 
ain't  the  best  places  for  learning  them  sort  of  thmgs,  1 
reckon  1  " 


"AFTER  MANY  DA  ,  v 


1 97 


any 


1 


The  thunder  of   horses'  hoofs  had  hv        -   l   ne  bi-f  ught 
another  personage  to  the  stage. 

It  was  Enninie — "  sweet  Erminie,"  iL         ile  beauty    and 
heiress  of  a  princely  fortune  and  estate. 

The  promise  of  Erminie's  childhood  had  been  more  than 
fulfilled.  Wondrously  lovely  she  was  1  How  could  the  child 
of  Lord  Ernest  Villiers  and  Lady  Maude  Percy  be  other- 
wise ?  She  had  still  the  same  snowy  skin  of  her  infancy, 
softly  and  brightly  tinged  with  the  most  delicate  pink  on  the 
rounded  cheeks;  her  face  was  perfectly  oval,  and  almost 
transparent ;  her  eyes  were  of  the  deepest,  darkest  violet 
hue ;  her  long  curls,  that  reached  nearly  to  her  waist,  were 
like  burnished  gold,  and  the  snow-white  forehead  and  taper- 
ing limbs  were  perfect.  In  spite  of  the  difference  between 
them,  though  one  was  dark  and  impetuous,  the  other  fair 
and  gentle,  yet  there  was  a  resemblance  between  Raymond 
and  Erminie.  You  could  see  it  most  plainly  when  they 
smiled ;  it  was  the  smile  of  Lady  Maude  that  lit  up  both 
faces  with  that  strange,  nameless  beauty. 

"Oh,  Petl  I'm  so  glad  you've  come!"  she  joyfully  ex- 
claimed.    "  Guess  who's  here  ?  " 

«•  Who  ?     Ranty  ?  "  said  Pet. 

•«  No,  indeed.  Mr.  Toosypegs.  He  heard  Ray  was  come, 
and  rode  over  this  morning  to  see  him." 

"  Oh,  I  must  see  Mr.  Toosypegs  I  "  exclaimed  Ray,  laugh- 
ing, as  he  bounded  past  the  two  girls,  and  sprung  into  the 

house. 

It  was  a  neat,  pleasant  little  sitting-room,  with  white-mus- 
lin  blinds  in  the  windows,  that  were  already  darkened  with 
vines;  clean,  straw  matting  on  the  floor  and  chairs,  table, 
iuid  ceiling  fairly  glistening  with  cleanliness.  There  was  a 
wide  fireplace  opposite  the  door,  filled  with  fragrant  pine- 
boughs,  and  sitting  in  a  low  rocking-chair  of  Erminie's,  in 
the  corner,  was  our  old  friend,  Mr.  O.  C.  Toosypegs,  per- 
fectly unchanged  in  every  respect  since  we  saw  him  last. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  hope  you  have 
been  quite  well  since  I  saw  you  last  1  "  cried  the  spirited 
voice  of  Ray  as  he  grasped  Mr.  Toosypegs's  hand  and  gave 
it  a  cordial  shake. 

"  Thank  vou,  Master  Raymond,  I've  been  quite  well,  I  m 
very  much  'obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  wriggling 


'til 


■mr 


TJ.VO 


t:       i 


„8  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

'"Toogs  and  all,  I  hope,  Orlando?"  said  Pet,  as  she  en- 

'''' Yes,  Miss  Pet.  the  dogs  arc  quite  well.  Im  obliged  to 

^-:  ..:  'rrr;i!r^  ^n;^:f  l^nl     IVe  been  in  a 
statc^^f  nUnd  all  the  week,  and  there's  no  telling  how  longU 

'"'' clood'gracious  1  you   don't   say  so  I  "  said  the   alarmed 
Mr      Too^'sypegs.      'it's      not      anything     dangerous,    I 

^'Tvvell  people  generally  think  the  smallpox  is^  dangerous  !'' 
began  Pet'  with  f  sort  of  gloomy  ^^-nness  when  she  was  >n 
terVuptcd  by  Mr.  Toosypegs,  who,  seizmg  his  hat,  rushed  to 
the  door,  shriekmg  out :  .       p 

.^The  smallpox!  Oh,  my  gracious!  ^5^7.  J^'^J  [^J; 
how  could  vou  go  to  come  here,  and  give  it  o  us  all  like 
£  'go  Jd  gracious  1  for  to  think  of  being  all  full  of  hdt^ 
like  a  potato-steamer  1  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs.  wiping  the  cold 

P^^f  C  th^  ^alli^x  "n't  no  circumstance  to  my  trouble^^ 
went  on  Pet.  as  if  she  hadn't  heard  him.  '« I'm  going  to  be 
sent  to  school  I  "  u^.^'f  cr^*  the  small- 

Srngerri"  asfu7e'  you"'  pft  .as  only  using  an  illustrat.on 

"""Good'graciousl"  exclaimed  Mr.  Toosypegs,  dropping 
i„,oachaifand   wiping  his  face  with  h.shandkerch.ef,     .f 

out  of  1 "  said  Pet,  .  ...nging  her  nding-whip.        I  m  apt 

^^'.?nUM''thinrso:"'i:id  r':;.     ■.■  ?o  you  renumber  .he 
„i,,,t  She  coaxed  vou  «-  sailing  »-th  her,  Mr  Joos^^^^^^^^ 

TumnTyou  t  sh^r^rt'hair  o.  your  head  !     That  was 

.<Y  haven't  got  it  out  of  my  bones  yet,"  saia  Mr.  x.u./- 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS." 


139 


rtn _» 

1  uuaj- 


pegs,  mournfully.  "  I  never  oxpectcd  such  treatment  from 
Miss  Pet.  I'm  sure,  and  1  don't  know  what  I  had  ever  lUrnt: 
to  (leserva  it." 

"  Well,  don't  he  mad,  Orlando.  I'll  never  do  it  again," 
waid  Ptt,  in  a  ,u.c'ply-j)enitent  tone.  "  Ihit.  I  say,  Minnie, 
when  we  a;e  going  to  have  breakfast  ?  I've  an  awful  ap- 
petite this  morning." 

"  In  a  moment.  Hurry,  Lucy,"  said  Erminie,  as  she  en- 
to'cd  the  room. 

"  I  was  just  upstairs,  bringing  grandmother  her  break- 
fast." 

"  Hem  I     How  is  the  old  lady  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Pet. 

"  As  well  as  usual.  She  hardly  ever  comes  down-stairs 
now.  Do  hurry,  Lucy.  Miss  Lawless  will  soon  be  starved, 
if  you  keep  on  so  slowly  !  " 

"  Lor'  sakes  1  I  is  hurryin',  Miss  Minnie,"  said  Lucy,  as 
she  bustled  in,  drew  out  a  small,  round  table,  laid  the  cloth, 
and  prepared  to  arrange  the  breakfast-service.  "  'Spect  dat 
ar'  little  limb  t'inks  folks  ought  to  git  up  de  night  afore,  to 
have  breakfast  ready  time  'nuff  for  her,"  muttered  Lucy  to 
herself,  looking  daggers  at  Pet  Lawless,  who,  swinging  her 
riding-hat  in  one  hand  and  her  whip  in  the  other,  watched 
Lucy's  motions  wi*^h  a  critical  eye.  Erminie,  with  her  sunny 
face  and  ready  hands,  assisted  in  the  arrangements  ;  and 
soon  the  whole  party  were  assembled  round  the  table,  doing 
ample  justice  to  Lucy's  morning  meal. 

And  while  they  were  thus  engaged,  I  shall  claim  your 
patience  for  a  moment,  dear  reader,  while  we  cast  a  brief 
retrospective  glance  over  the  various  changes  that  have  oc- 
curred during  those  ten  years. 

By  the  kind  care  of  good-natured  Mr.  Toosypegs  and  his 
friend.  Admiral  Havenful,  the  gipsy  Ketura  had  htvn  amply 
provided  for.  As  Raymond  and  Erminie  grt-w  up.  they  had 
been  sent  to  Judestovvn  to  school,  with  the  children  of  Judge 
Lawless,  whose  daughter,  Miss  Pet,  has  already  been  intro- 
luced  to  the  reader.  The  dark,  gloomy  recluse,  Ketura, 
Was  an  object  of  dread  and  dislike  to  the  neighborhood 
around.  She  shunned  and  avoided  them,  lived  her  own  in- 
ward life  independent  of  them  all,  and  was  therefore  hated 
by  them.  And  when,  about  a  year  previous  to  the  present 
time^  she  received  a  severe  paralytic  strokej  from  the  effects 


Iff! 


n> 


:aiva 


'I 


l^' 


130  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

of  which  she  never  fully  recovered,  very  little   sorrow  was 
felt  o    expressed.     Sweet,  gentle  little  Ermmje  was  however 
a  favorite  with  all,  and  so  was  the  bold,  bright,  high-sp.nted 
Rayr^ond.  to  wh;m  the   somewhat    eccentric    old  Admiral 
Salenful  took  such  a  fancy  that  he  insisted  on  sending  hm 
to  college  with  his  nephew,  Ranty,  or   Randolph  La^^less 
To  colle^ge,  therefore,  the  boys  went ;  and  Lrminie  remained 
i  the  Bfrrens,  and  went  every  fine  day  to  Judestown  to  the 
d  strict    chool   sometimes,  but  very  rarely,  accompanied  by 
Pe   Lawless;  for  that  wild  young  lady  voted  schools  and 
^rhool-teachers  and  "  Committee  men,"  unmitigated  bores, 
t  and;^t^red  her  own  '«  sweet  will  "and  her  pony  Star- 
liaht  to  suffering  through  "  readin',  writin    and   refmetic. 
f  vain  her  father,  the  fudge,  stormed  and  threatened  her 
with  all  sorts  of  calamities.     Pet,  metaphysically  speaking 
Tapped  her  finger  in  the  face  of  all  authority  ;  and  the  mo^e 
they  wanted  her  to  go,  the   more  .she^'°"^^",Vtt  herto 
^//ofTer  to  do  her  best  to  learn  if  they  would   let  her  go 
with  Ray  and  Ranty.     But  gaiters  were  things  forbidden  in- 
TidetheUege  gates;  and  besides  Ranty  very  ungalla^^^^^^ 
protested  that  all  girls  in  general,  and  "our  Pet    j"  P^^  c- 
E,  were  nothing  but  "pests,"  and  that  he  wouldn  t  have 
her  near  him  at  any  price.     Master  Ranty  Lawless  did  no 
ke  the  female  persuasion,  and  once  gruffly  announced  that 
;;'^dra  of  heavL  was,  a  place  where  boys  could  do  as  they 
liked   and  where  there  were   no  girls.     So  as  Pet  naa  no 
mother  to  look  after  her.  and  queened  it  over  the  servants 
Thome   she  erew  up  pretty  much  as  she  liked,  and  was 
no  ed  far  and'near  as 'the  wildest,  maddest,  skip-over-the- 
moon  madcap  that  ever  threw  a  peaceable  community  into 

'"^Thls  niuch  being  premised,  It  is  only  necessary  to  say  that 
R.v  a  Id  Ranty  had  returned  from  college  for  a  few  n^^nths 
^;i:Uon    the  day  previous   to  the  commencement  of  this 
chapter,  and  then  go  on  with  our  story,  t,^^^^__„  >  m 

-'When  is  Miss  PrisciUa  coming  over,  Mr,  Toosypegs . 
asked  Erminie,  as  she  filled  for  the  third  time  his  cup  with 

*''?'Moifrrtv"en'ing/' "replied  Mr.  Toosypegs,  speaking  with 
his  mouth  full ;  "  she's  going  to  bring  you  a  parcel  of  musim 
things  to  work  for  her." 


I  HHii>miB|BI"  '  II  '  T'l""*'""'  ' 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS." 


I3« 


"  The  collar  and  cape  she  was  speaking  of,  I  guess,"  said 
Erminie,  with  her  pleasant  smile. 

"  How  in  the  world,  Ermie,"  exclaimed  Pet,  "  do  you  find 
time  to  work  for  everybody  ?  I  never  saw  you  a  moment 
idle  yet." 

"  Well,  it  is  pleasanter  to  be  doing  something,"  said  Erminie  ; 
"  and  besides.  Miss  Pr'scilla  can't  do  fine  sewing,  her  eyes 
are  so  weak,  you  know.  I  can't  bear  to  sit  still  and  do  noth- 
ing; I  like  to  sew,  or  read,  or  something." 

"  Ugh  t  sewing  is  the  most  horrid  thing,"  said  Pet,  with  a 
shrug;  "  I  don't  mind  reading  a  pretty  story  to  pass  time  now 
and  then  ;  but  to-  sit  down  and  go  stitch — stitch — stitching, 
for  hours  steady — well,  I  know  I'd  soon  be  in  a  strait-jacket 
if  I  tried  it,  thafs  all !  I  was  reading  a  real  nice  book  the 
other  night." 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  asked  Ray.  "  I  should  like  to  see  the 
book  you  would  like  to  read." 

"  Well,  there  ain't  many  I  like,  but,  oh  1  this  one  was  ever 
so  nice.  It  was  all  about  a  hateful  old  Jew  who  lent  money 
to  a  man  that  wanted  to  go  somewhere  a-courting ;  and  then 
this  Jew  wanted  to  cut  off  a  pound  of  his  flesh,  to  eat,  I  ex- 
pect— the  nasty  old  cannibal !  And  then  this  lady,  I  forget 
her  name,  came  and  dressed  herself  up  in  man's  clothes,  and 
got  him — the  fellow  who  went  courting,  you  know — off  some- 
wheres.  Oh,  it  was  splendid  I  I'll  lend  you  the  book,  some- 
time, Minnie."' 

"  Why,  it  must  have  been  the  '  Merchant  of  Venice  '  you 
read,"  said  Ray,  "  though  such  a  jumbled  up  account  of  it  as 
that,  I  never  heard.  I'll  go  over  for  the  book  to-morrow  and 
read  it  to  Min,  if  she  cares  about  hearing  it." 

Before  Erminie  could  reply,  a  surprised  ejaculation  from 
Pet  made  her  turn  quickly  round.  Ray's  eyes  wandered  in 
the  same  direction,  while  Mr.  Toosypegs  sprung  from  his 
seat  in  terror  ;  thereby  badly  scalding  himself  with  the  hot 
coffee,  at  the  sight  which  met  hie  astonished  eyes. 


fl> 


:3xva 


132 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


t: 


V'v 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MASTER     RANTY. 
«  A  rare  compound  of  oddity,  frolic  .nd  i^^"^^^^^^^^^^ 

A  LITTLE  old,  decrepit  woman,  bent  double  with  age, 
leaning  on  a  staff,  and  shaking  with  palsy,   ^tood   ^^ -d- 

UnTv  before  them  as  if  she  had  sprung  up  through  the  earth. 
H'^d^ess  wa     the   most  astonishing  comi^lication  of  rags 

h.    eve    hung  together  on  a  human  back  before.     A  lon^ 

0  cHaJhioned'cloak  that,  a  hundred  years     ^orc^f^^^ 

1  11      u,...,,    ell    thp    r'12-e     swept   behmd    her,    ana    as   lu 
Sl^  ng:Lm:d  ilflmminLt  danger  of  throwing  the 

m  ortun  xte  old  lady  over  her  own  head,  every  mnnite.  A 
Wn  sun-b  ned^face,  half  hidden  in  masses  of  coarse 
^  °v  ha  rs  peered  wildly  out ;  and  from  under  a  pair  of 
Sy  o:;rLnging,  grJy  eyebrows,  gleamed  two  kee^ 
needle-like  eyes,  as  sharp  as  two-edged  stdettob.  ims 
sine    h^^^  wore  a  man's  old  beaver  hat  on  her  head 

whtch  was  forcibly  retained  on  that  palsy-shaking  member 
by  a  scaJlet  bandanna  handkerchief  passed  over  the  crown, 

^"ll^^rJ:^  UtS"iooping,  unearthly-looking  crcm.^ 
one  oHhe  mist  singular  sights  that  mortal  eyes  ever  beheld 
So  completely  antazed  were  the  whole  assembly  .hat  for 
some  five  minut'es  they  stood  staring  in  silent  wonder  a^  this 
unexpected  and  most  startling  apparition.  The  little  oia 
woman  steadying  herself  with  some  difficulty  on  her  cane 
Thaded  her  eyes  with  one  hand,  and  peered  at  them  withher 

'^< 'Don't' be  afeard,  pretty  ladies  and  gentlemen  ''said  the 
little  oW   ady,  in  a  shrill,  sharp  falsetto.     "  I  won't  hurt  none 
o'  vou  ef  vou  behave  yourselves.     I.guess  I  m.y  come  in  ? 
■   And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  liie  ntue  owwc.  U  the 


sf^mff** 


MASTER  RANTY. 


133 


>" 


extraordinary  head-dress  hobbled  in,  and  composedly 
dumped  herself  down  into  the  rocking-chair  Mr.  Toosypegs 
had  lately  vacate   . 

"  Now,  what  in  the  name  of  Hecate  and  all  the  witches, 
does  this  mean  ?  "  exclaimed  Pet,  first  recovering  her  pres- 
ence of  mind. 

"  It  means  that  I'll  take  some  breakfas',  if  you'll  bring  it 
down,  Miss,"  said  the  little  old  woman,  laying  her  formi- 
dable-looking stick  across  her  lap  ;  and  favoring  the  company, 
one  and  all,  with  a  prolonged  stare  from  her  keen  bright 
eyes. 

"  Well,  now,  that's  what  I  call  cool,"  said  Pet,  completely 
taken  aback  by  the  old  woman's  sang /mid.  "  Perhaps  your 
ladyship  will  be  condescending  enough  to  sit  over  here  and 
help  yourself  ?  " 

"  No  thankee,"  squeaked  her  ladyship.  "  I'd  rather  have 
it  here,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you.  I  ain't  as  smart  as  I  used 
to  was;  and  don't  like  to  be  getting  up  much.  Perhaps 
t'other  young  gal  wouldn't  mind  bringing  it  here,  she  added, 
looking  at  the  astonished  Erminie. 

Roused  out  of  her  trance  of  astonishment,  not  unmingled 
with  terror,  by  claims  of  hospitality,  Erminie  hastened  to 
comply  ;  and  placing  a  cup  of  fragrant  coffee  and  some  but- 
tered waffles  on  a  light  waiter,  placed  it  on  a  chair  within 
the  old  woman's  reach. 

That  small  individual  immediately  fell  to,  with  an  alacrity 
quite  astonishing,  considering  her  size  and  age  ;  and  coffee 
and  waffles  in  a  remarkably  short  space  of  time  were  "  among 
the  things  that  were,  but  are  no  longer." 

"  Thankee,  young  'oman,  that  was  very  nice,"  said  the  old 
woman,  drnwing  out  a  flaming  yellow  cotton  pocket-handker- 
chief, and  wiping  her  mouth,  as  a  sign  she  had  finished  ; 
"  my  appetite  ain't  so  good  as  it  used  to  be ;  I  reckon  that'll 
do  for  the  present.  What's  your  dinner  hour,  young  gals  ?  " 
"  Little  after  midnight,"  said  Pet. 

"  Humph  1  I  reckon  you're  trying  to  poke  fun  at  me,  Miss 
Pet  Lawless  ;  but  no  good  ever  comes  of  telling  lies.  Mave 
ye  ever  heard  tell  on  Ananias  and  Sapphira  ?  "  asked  the 
old  woman,  turning  sharply  on  Pet. 

"  Whew  1  ghosts,  and  goblins,  and  warlocks  I  She  knows 
my  name  1  "  whistled  Pet,  in  unbounded  astonishment. 


"ym"' 


axva 


ri 

^4 


134  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

u  Yes ;  I  know  more   about  you  than   I  want  to  know," 
said  the  little  old  woman,  with  a  scowl. 

''Well,  you  ain't  the  only  one  in  that  plight,  if  that's  any 
consolation,"  said  Pet,  carelessly. 

"  Do  vou  know  who  I  am,  too  ?     said  Ray. 

-Yes   I've  heern  tell  on  you,"  said  the  old  woman,  shortly. 

"  And  no  good  either,  I'll  be  bound  !  "  said  Pet. 

''  Well,  no  ;  sence  you  say  it  1  never  did  hear  any  good  o^ 
him  "said  the  old  woman,  taking  out  a  huge  snuil-box,  and 
composedly  helping  herself  to  a  pinch. 

"  What  did  you  hear  about  me,  mother  ?  said  Ray,  laugh 
ing,  as  he  shook  his  curly  black  locks. 

^'  Well,    I    heard    you  was  a  noisy,  disagreeable,  figh  in 
characte;;  alius  a-kickin'  up  a  row  -ith  somebody  and  for- 
ever a-tormentin'  of  that  nice  young  gentleman,  Master  Ranty 
Lawless  who  is  a  brother  of  that  little  yeller  gal  over  there 
and  worth  a  dozen  like  her  1 "  said  the  little  old  woman,  with 

'''?' Wdl,  upon  my  word,  if  that  ain't  polite  not  to  say  com- 
plimentao-,"    said'  Pet,    drawing   a  long  breath.         Little 

^^^  W?n   you^l^t  S:;i  know,"  said  the  old  woman 
who  whatever  her  other  infirmities  might  be,  was  certainly 
not  diaf.     "  You're  rayther  of  the  tawniest,  as  everybody 
wha's^t  eyes  can  see'for  themselves.     It's  a  pity  you  am 
good-looking,  like  your  brother  ^nty ;  I  don  t  thmk  I  ever 
«;tw  1  nrettier  voung  man  nor  he  is,  in  my  lite. 

"why  you  Ltefui  old  thing!  "  burst  out  Pet  indignantly  ; 
losing  all  her  customary  respect  for  old  age  m  these  unflatter- 
injr  remarks  "  I  am'f  tawny  ;  and  I  am  pretty— I  ]ust  am  ! 
and  I'm  no  ■  going  to  believe  anybody  that  says  anything 
dse  If  you^and  everybody  else  think  I'm  ugly,  its  aU your 
bad  tasted  Ranty  preitier  than  me!  Likely  story!"  said 
Pet,  between  contempt  and  indignation. 

' '  Well,  look  what  a  nice  white  skin  he  has  1  said  the  old 
woman,  with  whom  Master  Ranty  appeared  to  be  an  im- 
mense favorite.  ...  ,  „  p„pi^,med 
"White  skin!  bleached  saffron,  more  like!  excla^"^^d 
Pet ;  "  if  our  Ranty's  good-looking,  I  guess  he  keeps  his 
beJutv  in  his  r>ocket:  for  nobody  but  you  ever  discovered  it. 
Humph  l"  ''Little  yeller  gal ! '     1  vow,  it's  enough  lo  pro- 


MASTER  RANTY. 


135 


, " 


know, 


It's  any 


shortly. 

good  of 
•ox,  and 

y,  laugh- 

fightin' 
and  for- 
er  Ranty 
er  there, 
nan,  with 


say  com- 

" '  Little 


woman — 

certainly 

verj'body 

you  ain't 

ik  I  ever 

iignantly  ; 

unflatter- 

just  am  ! 

anything 

's  all  your 

ry !  "  said 

id  the  old 
)e   an  im- 

exclaimed 
keeps  his 
:overed  it. 
;h  to  pro- 


voke a  saint  1 "  exclaimed  Pet,   in  a  higher  key,  at  the  re- 
membrance of  this  insult. 

•'  May  we  ask  the  name  of  the  lady  who  has  favored  us  with 
her  company  this  morning  ?  "  said  Ray,  at  this  point,  bowing 
to  the  old  woman  with  most  ceremonious  politeness. 

"  Yes,  you  may,  young  man,"  said  the  old  lady,  with  a 
sharp  asperity  that  seemed  rather  uncalled  for ;  "  it's  a  name 
I  ain't  never  ashamed  of,  and  that's  more'n  some  folks  can 
say.  I'm  Goody  Two-Shoes  ;  and  if  you  don't  like  it  you 
may  lump  it."  And  the  shrill  falsetto  rose  an  octave  higher, 
as  she  gave  the  snuff-box  a  furious  tap  on  the  lid. 

"  A  mighty  pretty  name,"  remarked  Pet. 

"  And  we  like  it,  exceedingly,"  said  Ray  ;  "  though,  if  we 
didn't,  what  awful  meaning  lies  hidden  under  the  mysterious 
phrase  of  "  lumping  it '  ?  I  confess,  it  passes  my  compre- 
hension. Perhaps,  my  dear  madam,  you  would  lie  good 
enough  to  tianslate  it  from  the  original  Greek,  to  which 
language  I  should  judge  it  belongs,  and  let  us  know  its  im- 
port in  the  vulgar  tongue,  commonly  called  plain  English." 

"  Young  man  1  "  exclaimed  the  beldame,  facing  -sharply 
round,  "  I  dare  say  you  think  it  mighty  amusing  to  keep 
poking  fun  at  me — which  shows  all  the  broughten  up  ever 
you  had,  to  go  showing  no  respect  to  people  what's  in  their 
old  ages  of  life.  But  if  you  think  sich  onchristian  conduct  " 
—here  the  sharp  voice  rose  to  the  shrillest  possible  treble — 
"  will  go  onpunished  on  this  airth,  or  in  the  airth  to  come, 
you're  very  much  deceived,  young  man  :  let  me  tell  yon 
that  1  I  have  power,  though  you  mayn't  think  so,  and  could 
turn  you  into  a  cracked  jug,  or  a  mustard-pot,  just  as  easy 
as  not." 

"  I  wish  to  mercy  you  would,  then,  old  Goody  Two-Shoes  I 
Lor'  I  what  a  showy  appearance  you'd  make,  Ray,  as  a 
mustard-pot  I  "  said  Pet,  bursting  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"Why,  my  dear  madam,  I  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  of 
'  poking  fun'  at  you,  as  you  elegantly  expressed  it,"  said  Ray, 
looking  deeply  persecuted  and  patient ;  "  and  as  to  being 
turned  into  a  cracked  jug,  or  a  mustard-pot,  I  think  would 
rather  retain  my  present  shape  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you." 

"  Take  care,  then,  how  you  rouse  my  wrath,"  said  the  old 
woman,  with  a  scowl,  which  was  unfortunately  lost  in  a  suc- 
cession of  short,  sharp  sneezes,  as  her  pinch  of  snuff  went 


;  I'l 


:3iva 


M 


!     1 


vi 


136  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

the  wrong  way.  "  I'm  a  patient  woman  ;  but  1  can't  stand 
everything.  I'm  used  to  be  treated  with  respect.  Where  1 
came  from,  no  such  conduct  was  ever  heerd  tell  on." 

"  It's  a  warm  climate  there— ain't  it  ?  "  msinuated   Pet, 

meekly.  .  t       1.   j         1 

"  Humph  1  there's  some  inference  m  that,  if  a  body  onl> 
could  make  it  out,"  grunted  the  old  woman  ;  "anyways,  I 
was  always  treated  with  respect  thc-re,  young  'oman  ;  which 
I'd  advise  you  to  remember,  for  you  need  it." 

"  Now  who  would  think  the  little  demons  would  treat  tlie 
old  one  with  respect?  "  said  Pet,  musingly,  but  in  an  ex- 
ceedingly audible  tone.  "  I  never  knew  they  were  so  po.ite 
down  there,  before."  ,  .    „.  , 

"  Young  woman,"  began  Goody,  with  kindling  eyes,  when 
Pet  interrupted  her  impatiently  with  : 

"  Look  here,  now  1  old  Goody  Two-Shoes,  I  ain  t  a  young 
woman,  and  I  never  intend  to  be  ;  and  I'd  thank  you  not  to 
keep  calling  me  out  of  my  name.  I'm  Miss  Petronilla  Law- 
less, and  if  it's  not  too  much  trouble,  I'd  feel  grateful  to  you 
if  you'd  call  me  so.     There  1  " 

''  Good  gracious  !  Miss  Pet,  take  care  1  whispered  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  who,  gray  with  terror,  had  been  all  this  time 
crouching  out  of  sight,  in  a  corner;  "it's  real  dangerous  to 
rouse  her  ;  she  might  bring  the  roof  down  about  our  heads, 
and  kill  us  all,  if  you  angered  her." 

"  Who  is  that  young  man  ?  "  said  the  old  woman,  in  an 
appalling  voice,  as  she  slowly  raised  her  finger,  and  pointed 
it,  like  a  pistol,  at  the  trembling  head  of  Mr.  O.  C.  Toosypegs 
..  I— I— I'm  Orlando  C.  Toosypegs,  I— I'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you,"  stammered  Mr.  Toosypegs,  dodging  be- 
hind Pet,  in  evident  alarm. 

"  Young  man,  come  over  here,"  solemnly  said  the  beldame, 
keeping  her  long  finger  pointed,  as  if  about  to  take  aim,  and 
never  removing  her  chain-lightning  eyes  from  the  pallid 
physiognomy  of  the  unhappy  Mr.  Toosypegs. 

"  Go,  Horlander,"  said  Pet,  giving  him  an  encouraging 
push.  "  Bear  it  like  a  man  ;  which  means,  hold  up  your 
head,  and  take  your  finger  out  of  your  mouth,  like  a  good 
boy.     I'll  stick  to  you  to  the  last."  .... 

with  cnauenng  iccm,  n^niumiii  a-.i-.D:.,  .!r..,i!s..^ ,  --- 

terror-stricken  face,  Mr  Toosypegs  found  himself  standing 


MASTER  RANTY. 


137 


before  the  ancient  sibyl,  by  dint  of  a  series  of  pushes  from 
the  encouraaring  hand  of  Pet. 

.'Young  man,  wouldst  thou  know  the  future  ?  "  began  the 
old  woman,  in  a  deep,  stern,  impressive  voice. 

..  T  i_I_l'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mrs.  Two 
Shoes,"    replied   poor^  Mr.  Toosypegs.     "  It's  real  kind  of 

vou    I'm  sure,  and —  ,     .,  .  ^    i 

^  -Vain  mortal,  spare  thy  superfluous  thanks,"  mterrupted 
the  mysterious  one,  with  a  wave  of  her  hand,  "  Dark  and 
terrific  is  the  doom  Fate  has  in  store  for  thee-a  doom  so 
dreadful  that  dogs  will  cease  to  bark,  the  stars  in  the  firma- 
ment hold  their  breath,  and  even  the  poultry  in  the  barnyard 
tur-^  pale  to  hear  it.  Woe  to  thee,  unhappy  man!  Better 
for  thee  somebody  else  had  a  millstone  tied  round  his  neck 
and  were  plunged  into  the  middle  of  a  frog-pond,  than  that 
thou  shouldst  live  to  see  that  day." 

'<Gooa  gracious!"  ejaculated  the  horror-stricken  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  wiping  the  cold  drops  of  perspiration  off  h.s 
face,  as  the  sibyl  flourished  her  snuff-box  in  the  air,  as  if  in- 
voking kindred  spirits  to  come  to  her  aid. 

"  Sublime  peroration  1  "  exclaimed  Ray,  laughing  inwardly. 
"  Live  to  see  what  day?"  inquired  Pet,  whose  curiosity 
was  aroused.     "  The  day  he  gets  married,  maybe.        ^^ 

"  Awful  will  be  the  results  that  will  follow  that  day,    went 
on    the    seeress,    scowling    darkly    at    the    irreverent    let 
"  Tremendous  clouds  will  flash  vividly  through  the  sky,  the 
blinding  thunder  will  show  itself  in  all  the  colors  of  a  dying 
dolphin,  and  a  severe  rain-storm  will  probably  be  the  resu  t 
On  thyself,  oh,   unhappiest  of  mortals,  terrific  wiU  be  the 
effects    it    will    produce  1     These    beautiful    snuff-colored 
freckles  will  shake  to  their  very  center ;  these  magnificent 
whiskers,  which,   I   perceive,  in  two  or  three  places  show 
symptoms  of  sprouting,  will  wither  away  in  dread,  like  the 
grass  which  perisheth.     This  courageous  form,  brave  as  a 
lion,  which  has  never  yet  quailed  before  man  or  ghost,  will 
be  rent  in  twain  like  a  mountain  in  a  gale  of  wind ;  and  an 
attack  of  influenza  in  your  great  toe  will  mercifully  put  an 
end  to  all  your  earthly  agonies  and  troubles  at  once  ,     Un- 
happy mortal,  go  1     Thou  hast  heard  thy  doom 

A  more  wretched  and  woebegone  face  than  Mr.  Toosypegs 

-.     -        .         .      .  1 1    n^  '^irthl"  ev*"   ever  lell  on 

dispiayea,  as  ne  luiucu  luuiju,  no  ^.ari!.!^   cj?-   


nmk  €  2  IV' 


:aiwn 


138 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


before.     Ray  had  turned  to  the  window  in  convulsions  of 

laughter. 

'<  I  ain't  well,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  mournfully,  as  he 
took  up  his  hat.  "  I've  got  a  pain  somewhere,  and  I  gueps 
I'll  go  home.  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Two-Shoes.  I'm  very 
much  obliged  to  you,  I'm  sure." 

And  slowly  and  dejectedly  Mr.  Toosypegs  crushed  his  hat 
over  his  eyes,  and  turned  his  steps  in  the  direction  of  Dismal 

Hollow.  ,  ,  , 

"  Poor  Horlander  1 "  said  Pet ;  "  if  he  isn't  scared  out  of 
his  wits,  if  he  ever  had  any.  Say,  Goody,  won't  you  tell 
my  fortune,  too  ?  " 

"  Come  hither,  scoffer,"  said  the  sibyl,  with  solemn  stern- 
ness. "  Appear,  and  learn  the  dark  doom  Destiny  has  in 
store  for  thee.  Fate,  that  rules  the  fortunes  of  men  as  well 
as  little  yaller  gals,  will  make  you  laugh  on  'tother  side  of 
your  mouth,  one  of  these  days." 

"  Oh,  Hamlet!  what  a  falling  off  was  there  1  "  quoted  Ray, 
laughing.  "  What  a  short  jump  that  was  from  the  sublime  I 
Don't  pile  on  th'^  agony  too  high,  Mother  Awful." 

'«  Peace,  irreverent  mortal  I  "  said  Goody  Two-Shoes  giv- 
ing her  snuff-box  a  solemn  wave ;  "  peace,  while  I  foretell 
the  future  fate  of  this  tawny  little  mortal  before  me  1 " 

<'  Well,  if  you  ain't  the  politest  old  lady  1 "  ejaculated  Pet. 
"  But  go  on ;  I  don't  mind  being  called  ugly,  now.  I'm 
getting  used  to  it,  and  rather  like  it." 

'  You'll  never  be  drowned,"  began  the  sibyl,  looking  down 
prophetically  in  Pet's  little  dark  palm. 

"  Well,  that's  pleasant,  anyway,"  said  Pet. 

"  Because  you  were  born  to  be  hanged,"  went  on  the  old 
woman,  unheeding  the  interruption. 

"  Whew !  "  whistled  Pet. 

'<  Your  days  are  numbered — "  ^^  _ 

'«  Well,  I  never  saw  a  number  on  one  of  'em  yet,"  inter- 
rupted the  incorrigible  Petro  ^illa. 

"  Peace,  scoffer  1  "  exclaimed  the  beldame,  fiercely. 
*<  The  fate's  disclose  a  speedy  change  in  thy  destiny." 

«  I  expect  they  do,"  said  Pet ;  "  for  I'm  going  to  be  sent 

to  school  soon." 

"  jjomc  Uuik  lurxui^  ij  ><^  .s\-,H^  I".  J — -  t---  -o-»-,    — 
nothing  can  alleviate,  a  nameless  secret  misery—" 


MASTER  RANTY. 


139 

if  it  is,  I 


u  Perhaps    it's   the  coUc,"   suggested  Pet.^ 

a  tawny  woman,  with  a  dirty    tace, 

if  Spanking    then,    all   round."    interrupted    Pet.   eagerly. 

«  U  she  isn't,   It  am  '"'=•_•(     t^j  ,he  ancient  prophetess, 

"  W.U  you  be  silent  ?  /°'^  "J/.f^,^  ;,  ,he  doom  of  those 
vith  incrcasmg  sharpness         1-rrb.e  ^^^_^^ 

L'n7"u?s  ^e-plaiMy're^^ear 'that  if  you  travel  .uch 

^°"^^^"P^^^:xr:^^yo..  he  rich.- 

llftl-'trs^bTl-rertoTe-irtheunhelieving 
^If  Andt^ou  don't  d.e,  youH,  live  to  he  pretty  old." 

::L°rmt't'^;Si^nv^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

mng^\%wayW's  "-"i^t^toSdt  th  mpunU^"^        ' 
but  beware  1     I  am  not  to  be  mocked  w       J  ^^  ,^^.^^^  ^ 
"  Neither  am  1,"  said  Pet ,     so  1  m  "     S      b  , 

word  about  them  thirteen  ''t,^"^'^^  f  \th  i  I  Sn't  such 

dozen,  too  ;  as  if  twelve  wasn  t  enough  !     I  o.r  1 

a  goose,  Goody  Two-Shoes.  ,„nburned,    unfortunate, 

.-dtnTs'^d  ^::^^:^^}^,  -  -  h™r; 

tt^co^e'^^eirSiembtrXy  w^Ltold  by  Goody 

Two-shoes."  . ,  -o  .      ,<  if  T  wasn't  the  patientest, 

"  Well,  I  declare  I  "  said  Pet.        H  1  w^^"  ' J"    f         ^.-.^^ 

b  ^mpered  ^tle  girl  in  MaryW,  1 -u^t'd '';:^  "e%e , 

::!d";rntTiniu;;d  you  oranybody  else  in  its  Ufe.- 


imr 


:qiivn 


140 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


And  Pet,  with  a  deeply-wounded  look,  ran  her  finger  along 
the  insulted   proboscis,  as   if  to  sootlie  its  injured  feelings, 

"  Will  you  tell  my  fortune.  Mother  Two-Shoes  ?  "  said  Ray, 
turning  round.  "  I  am  particularly  anxious  to  know  the 
future." 

"Well,  you  needn't  be,  then,"  said  Goody,  snappishly; 
"  for  it  has  notiung  good  in  store  for  a  miserable  scapegoat 
like  you.  1  won't  tell  it ;  but  I  will  tell  that  little  gal's," 
pointing  to  Erminie,  who  all  the  time  had  been  quietly  look- 
ing on,  not  knowing  whether  to  laugh  or  b«'  afraid,  and  wholly 
puzzled  by  it  all.  "  She  gave  me  some  'jreakfast ;  and  '  one 
good  turn  deserves  another,'  as  the  liible  says.  Give  me 
your  hand." 

Afraid  of  offending  the  old  lady,  Erminie  held  it  out. 

"  You'll  be  rather  a  nice-looking  young  woman,  if  you 
don't  grow  up  ugly,"  began  the  seeress,  looking  intently  at 
the  little  white  palm  that  lay  in  hers  like  a  lily-leaf ;"  and 
will  have  some  sense,  if  not  more,  unless  you  get  beside  your- 
self, as  most  young  gals  nowadays  mostly  do.  It's  likely 
you'll  be  married  to  somebody,  some  time ;  very  likely  the 
first  letter  of  his  name  will  be  Ranty  Lawless,  who,  by  that 
time,  will  be  one  of  the  nicest  young  men  you  or  anybody 
else  will  ever  see.  If  he  makes  you  his  wife — which  is 
a  blessing  you  ought  to  pray  for  every  day — don't  forget  to 
learn  to  make  slap-jacks  and  Johnny-cake,  two  things  that 
good  youth  is  very  fond  of,  as  I  am  given  to  understand. 
As  he  will  probably  be  away  up  there  among  the  big-wigs 
in  Congress  every  day,  don't  forget  to  give  him  your  bless- 
ing, and  a  paper  of  s.  idwiches  every  morning  before  he 
starts ;  and  meet  him  at  night,  when  he  returns,  with  a  smile 
on  your  lip,  and  a  cup  of  tea  in  your  hand.  By  following 
these  directions,  an  unclouded  future  will  be  yours,  and  you 
will  probably  be  translated,  at  last,  in  a  cloud  of  fire  and 
brimstone,  and  your  virtues  inscribed  on  a  pewter-plate,  as  an 
example  for  all  future  generations." 

"  What  an  enviable  fate,  Erminie  I  "  exclaimed  Ray. 

"  Seems  to  me,  old  lady,  our  Ranty's  a  great  bother  to 
you,"  said  Pet,  suspiciously,  as  she  fixed  her  bright,  search- 
ing eyes  keenly  on  her  face. 

"  1  always  take  an  interest  in  nice  youths,"  said  the  old 
woman,  rising  and  grasping  her  stick,  preparatory  to  starting. 


■MWm^WMMiHM* 


•"•(idir'fwi 


OUR  ERMINIE. 


141 


u  I  guess  I  won't  mind  staying  for  dinner.     HI  call  some, 

^'^fNot^^fat  Goody  Two-Shoes."  exclaimed  Ray,  coolly 
catclg  tl.e  old  woman  by  the  collar.      "  I've  discovered 

^^VnVtfthe'ho^;o^?orE;rie,he  grasped  the  cloak  and 
torf  U  off  in  spite  of  the  vigorous  struggles  of  the  beldame. 
Then  fo  owed  the  hat,  and  red  handkerchief,  and  the  vener- 
airJ^y  locks;  and  Erminie  stifled  a  scream  as  she  fancied 
head  md  all  was  coming.  The  bushy  ^ray  eyebrows  c^jme 
oft'loo  and  the  brigl',  handsome,  mischievous  face  of  Mas- 
ter Ranty  Lawless  stood  revealed. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

OUR    EUMINIE. 

"  A  lovely  being  scarcely  formed  or  moUled-  ,, 
A  rose  with  all  its  sweetest  leaves  yet  f^l^f^-j^^^^j^^ 

«  Well,  I  never  !  "  exclaimed  Pet.  . 

"  Whv,  it's  Rantv  1  "  said  the  surprised  Erminie. 
.<  Yes  "  said   Ranty.  giving  his   hat  so  well-aimed  a  kick 
thatlt^truck  the  cat!  ;md  hurled  that  unfortunate  ^uad^ 

rgTe  cf^tl^^roff^her  back, f  ithout  ^^ r.^.^^ce^V^ 
or  the  slightest  veneration  for  gray  hairs  B>  the  wa>,  1 
Isr  ake^care  of  that  wig.  It  belongs  to  Unce  Harry,  and 
T  ^tole  it  last  night  when  he  was  in  bed.  What  do  you 
think  of  my  <  get-Sp,'  Ray  ?     1  laid  on  the  brown  and  black 

"".'wlf  your  complexion  would  be  improved  by  having 

r        ^    .UnA  "  n-nlied  Rav.     "  However,  it's  very  cred- 

^^hl  and"  shows  ho  v  t^^ef v^Uy  you  can  employ  your  time 

when%ou'like      Where,  in  the'n  me  of  all  the  witches  that 

peai;;;^^  Wn-^^^^^     ^:t^-v^ 

ent  youtn,  1  ^01  n  up   ^  b  i,^,,=em^id«  to  dress  me. 

and  stuff,  and  1  coaxea  one  ui  the  ....i.sem_ia_  .. 


i 


l£ilu. 


.^i>tn 


142 


THK  GYPvSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


.   \ 


I  flatter  myself  I  made  a  showy  appearance  when  I  entered 
— eh  ?  Poor  Orlando  Toosypcgs  I  Unhook  this  confounded 
frock,  Pet." 

"  Well,  now,  to  think  I  never  knew  you,"  said  Pet,  as  she 
obeyed.  "  I  thought  it  might  he  a  trick,  but  I  never  s«"i- 
pected  such  a  stupid  thing  as  you  could  have  done  it." 

"  That's  the  way  I  Merit  never  is  appreciated  in  this 
world,"  said  Ranty,  as  he  stepped  out  of  his  rather  dilapi- 
dated g#-ment,  "  I  expect  nobody  will  find  out  what  a 
genius  I  am  until  it  is  too  late.  Darn  the  thing  1  I  can't  get 
it  off  at  all." 

"  Patience,  Ranty  I  patience,  and  smoke  jour  pipe,"  said 
R.iy,  as  he  assisted  him  off  with  his  dress,  and  Ranty  stepped 
out  in  his  proper  costume,  and  stood  there,  tall,  human, 
handsome,  and  as  different  from  the  old  witch  of  a  few  mo- 
ments before  as  it  was  possible  to  be. 

'•  Oh,  Ranty  1  what  a  trick  1  "  said  Erminie,  laughing. 
'*  It  was  a  shame  to  frighten  poor  Mr.  Toosypegs,  though." 

"  He  won't  get  much  sympathy  from  Miss  Priscilla,  I 
guess,"  said  Ranty.  "  I  do  think  he  believed  every  word 
of  it." 

"  To  be  sure  he  did,"  said  Ray  ;  ",and  such  an  expressior* 
of  utter  wretchedness  as  his  face  wore  when  he  went  out,  I 
never  want  to  see  again.  It  will  be  as  good  as  a  play  to 
see  him  when  he  goes  home,  and  tells  Miss  Priscilla." 

"I'm  going  there  to  spend  the  day,"  said  Pet.  "Miss 
Priscilla  can't  bear  me, so  I  go  there  as  often  as  I  can.  I'll 
be  able  to  tell  you  all  about  it  when  I  come  back." 

"  You  had  better  not,"  said  Ray.  "  There  are  two  or 
three  runaway  niggers  in  the  woods,  and  it's  dangerous  for 
you  to  go  alone." 

"  Now,  you  might  have  known  that  would  just  make  that 
intensely-disagreeable  girl  go,"  said  Ranty,  rocking  himself 
backward  and  forward  in  Erminie's  chair.  "  Tell  her  there's 
danger  anywhere,  and  tliere  i,he"ll  be  sure  to  fly^  The  other 
day,  some  one  told  her  the  typhus  fever  was  down  at  the 
quarters,  and  nothing  would  sjrveher  butshe  must  instantly 
make  hci  appearance  there,  t<  -  see  what  it  was  like.  Luckily, 
it  turned  out  to  be  something  else ;  but  if  it  had  been  the 
fever,  Nilla  would  have  been  a  case  by  this  time — and  serve 
her  right,  too.     It's  very  distressing  to  a  quiet,  peaceable 


.,  I 


-■.-«*S(*ilS*«WWM*1*'ll'--'  W«W«IW  * 


OUR  KRMINIK. 


143 


individual  like  myself."  said  Master  Rnnty  P<^.'^-  'y>^ 
n.  his  head  on  his  hand  with  a  deep  s.gh.  ^^"^  '^^J*-  * 
o\se  in  .ne  exhorting  her.  she  don  t  nunc  ^'^  ^^^^  J^^  ;« 
I've  talked  to  her  like  a  father  ;  I've  preached  to  htr  on  tlic 
ewt  olher  ways  till  all  was  blue  ,  I've  lectured  her  tune  ami 
..in  like  a  pocket-edition  o\  Chryso.tom  and  look  at  he 
rSultl     I  don't  expect  to  live  out  half  my  days  long  of  that 

'^^l^Ma^:^  J^^n:;  sS^r^;;:ply  over  the  degeneracy  of 

the  human  race  in  ^^-^^f',^^'^^^^^^;^^^,^^,  Nilla 

•'  Spoken  like  an  oracle,"  cned  Ray ,      !:> ut  t"""»^ 
won't  take  your  advice. as  a  generalthmg.  1  hope  she  11  take 

""'"no   I  won't!  "was  Miss  Petronilla's  short,  simp  and 
decisive  reply.      "  I  won't  take  you  nor  your  adv.ce,  neither 
n.?  jus t  going  to  Dismal  HolloSv.  and  I'd  hke  to  see  who  U 

''°?Why,'the  half-starved  n.ggers  will."  said  ^-^^V}^^^^ 
what's  more,  they'll  swallow  you,  body  and  bones.  -^^^^l^'J^ 
out  salt  too  which  will  be  adding  insult  to  mjury.      I  hey  U 
find  ylu  sharp  and  arid  enough,  though,  if  that's  any  conso- 

^'';°l"ndeed,  Pet.  I  wouldn't  go  if  I  were  you."  said  Erminie. 

'"f/wetyou  ain't  me;  so  you  needn't,"  said  Pet.     "But 
I'm  going ;  and  y-  "-y  ^^l  ^alk  till  you  are  black  m  the 

^^rd^r:n^uUlf";ur^^  hat.  and  .ok  h.  .hip  ar.d 

cloves  and  looked  defian..^  at  the  assembled  trio. 
^TvVvteU;  when  you've  departed  'hi'  '■<""'' f"^'° 

the  p^^c-c  ...  disagreeable  ^^^'^^    ^'e^plup  a 
wuiavou  of  your  danger,'   said  Raity.         >>e  u   p         f 
monument  to  your  memory,  with  the  inscription : 

Sacred  to  the  Memory 
Of  that  sunburned,  se\f-willea  femaU  N.mrod. 
Pftronii.la  Lawless,  ^ 

Who  ought  to  lie  here,  but  she  doesn  t. 
For  having  lied  all  ihe  time  she  afflicted  this  earth. 
Now  that  she  ha    departed  to  a  worker  and. 
She  lies  n  the  siomach  of  a  great  btg  nigger 
Who  swallowed  her  at  a  mouthful  one  night. 
ijf  .;.,  h  is  the  i^mgdom  of  Maryland. 


:3JWi 


*  '.. 


I  -i 


144  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

"  You  had  better  let  me  go  with  you,"  said  Ray, 
"  No  ;  you  sha'n't,"  said  Pet,  whose  wilful  nature  was  now 
thoroughly  aroused  by  opposition,  and  who  fancied,  if  she 
accepted  this  offer,  they  might  think  it  was  cowardice;  "  I'll 
go  myself.  You  ride  with  me,  indeed  !  Why,  I'd  leave  you 
out  of  sight  in  ten  minutes." 

Ray's  dark  cheek  flushed,  and  he  turned  angrily  away. 
"  Well,  be   sure   to  come  home  before  dark — won't  you, 
Pet  ?  "  said   Erminie,  following  the  capricious  fairy  to  the 
door. 

"  No,  I  sha'n't  leave  Dismal  Hollow  till  nine  o'clock," 
said  Pet,  looking  back  defiantly  at  the  boys.  "  I'm  just  go- 
ing to  show  them  that  if  two  great  boys,  like  they  are,  are 
afraid,  little  Pet  Lawless  ain't.  I'll  ride  through  the  woods 
after  dark,  in  spite  of  all  the  runaway  niggers  this  side  of 
Baltimore." 

"All  right,"  said  Ranty,  "I'd  rather  they'd  eat  you, 
though,  than  me  ;  for  you're  like  the  Starved  Apothecary- 
all  skin  and  bones.  They'll  have  hard  crunching  of  it,  I'll 
be  bound  1     Luckily,  though,  darkeys  have  good  teeth  1  " 

"  Oh,  Pet  I  what  will   you  do,  if   the  niggers  should  see 
you  ?  "  said  Erminie,  clasping  her  hands. 
Pet  touched  her  pistols  significantly. 

"  Two  years  ago,  Ranty  taught  me  to  shoot,  you  little  pinch 
of  cotton-wool  1  and  I  haven't  forgotten  the  way  for  want 
of  practice  since,  I  can  tell  you.  I  can  see  by  the  light  of 
a  nigger's  eye,  in  the  dark,  how  to  take  aim  as  well  as  any 
one." 

"  You  shoot !  "  said  Ranty,  contemptuously .  "  you're  noth- 
ing but  a  little  boaster  and  a  coward  at  that ;  all  boasters 
are.  You'd  fall  into  fits  at  the  first  glimpse  of  a  woolly 
head." 

"  I  wouldn't  1  and  I  ain't  a  coward  !  "  cried  Pet,  stamping 
her  foot  passionately,  while  her  fierce  black  eyes  seemed  fairly 
to  scintillate  sparks  of  fire.  "  1  hate  you,  Ranty  Lawless,  and 
I'll  just  do  as  I  like,  in  spite  of  you  all  I  "  And  flushed  with 
passion,  Pet  fled  out,  sprung  on  her  fleet  Arabian,  as  wild 
and  fiery  as  herself,  and  striking  him  fiercely  with  her  whip, 
he  bounded  away  as  if  mad.  Two  minutes  after  and  the 
black,  fiery  horse  and  little,  dark,  fiery  rider  were  both  out 
of  sight. 


iiitstit'm'l 


..wwiwfci-.wwww';' 


wjtlSiSipi?- 


OUR  ERMINIE. 


M5 


And  looking   deeply  troubled  and  anxious,  gentle   little 
Frminie  returned  to  the  house. 

^Whew  what  a  little  tempest  1  what  a  tornado  I  what  a 
hombsheU  she  is  !  Now,  who  in  the  world  but  her  would 
fire  up  n  that  way  for  a 'trifle  ?  This  getting  up  steam  for 
nolhhig  Ts  all  a  humbug!  Girls  always  ^r.  a  humbug, 
?hou^h^  anyway,"  said  the  polite  and  gallant  Mr.  Law- 
le^s'' Luckily^  there's    one   sensible    individual    m    the 

^^■^'Yourself,  I  suppose,"  said  Erminie,  as  she  proceeded  to 
set  the  roon,'  to  rights,  like  the  neat  little  housewife  that  she 

''''Yes,"  said  Ranty  ;  "  all  the  good  sense  and  good  looks 
too  of  the  family  have  fallen  to  my  share,  except  what  uncle 

"^.^^^oJfSm  tohrvf°agreat  ideaof  your  own  beauty,"  said 
RayyturnTng  from  the  window,  where  he  had  stood  to  hide 
Ms  mortification,  ever  since  his  rebuff  from  Pet. 
^"uTo  be  sure  I  have,"  said  Master  Ranty,  stret<:hing  out 
his  lees  and  glancing  complacently  in  the  mirror.  "Nobody 
can  see  my  perfections  but  myself;  so  I  lose  no  chance  of 
impressing  U.em  on  the  minds  of  the  community  in  general 
Z  I  s^y^,  Ray,  come  out,  down  to  the  trout  f  reams  I  ve 
^ot  a  plan  in  my  head  that  promises  good  un  which  1 11 
fell  you  while  we're  catching  something  for  Minnie's  dinner- 

^''^^  All  right,"  said  Ray,  as  he  turned  and  went  out  with 
him,  Uttle^dr;aming  how  dearly  he  was  destined  to  pay  for 

^^u  goJ'  l"  know  they're  going  to  torment  somebody  and 
it's  such'a  shame,"  said  Erminie  to  herself,  as  she  took  the 
pocket-handkerch  ef  she  was  hemming,  and  sat  down  by  the 
'window  "  I  guess  it's  the  admiral ;  RarUy's  always  plagu,ng 
him  when  he's  at  home,  and  it  s  too  bad ;  cause  tne  au 
n  kal"  the  nicest  old  man  ever  was.  My  1  I  hope  the  n.,- 
geJs  wo?t  catch  Pet."  she  added,  half-aloud,  as  her  thought, 
strayed  to  that  self-willed  young  lady. 

A  shadow  fell  suddenly  across  the  sunshine  stream  ng 
through  the  open  Joor ;  and  looking  up,  ^rmmie  saw,  to  her 
greatLprise;  the  tall,  lank  figure,  and  pallid  freckles  of  Mr. 
O.  C.  loobypegs. 


::;iiwn 


146 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


rij 


"  Why,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  I  thought  you  had  gone,"  she  said, 
in  vv'onder. 

"  No,  Miss  Minnie,  I  ain't  gone,  I'm  very  much  obliged 
to  you,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  mournfully,  seating  himself. 
"  I  didn't  like  to  go  home ;  for  when  Miss  Prisciller  ain't 
well,  she  ain't  always  as  pleasant  as  she  might  be,  you  know. 
She  means  real  well,  I'm  sure  ;  but  then  it's  distressing  some- 
times to  be  always  scolded.  I  ain't  got  long  to  live,  either, 
s'ou  know,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  increasing  mourn 
fulness  ;  "  and  there  is  no  use  in  me  suffering  more  than  is 
necessary — is  there,  Miss  Minnie  ?  I  always  thought  I  was 
to  have  troubles,  but  I  never  knew  before  they  were  to  be 
so  dreadful.  I  intend  going  to  Judestown  right  after  dinner, 
and  having  my  will  made  out  in  case  anything  might— well, 
might  happen,  you  know.  I'm  going  to  leave  half  to  Aunt 
Prisciller,  and  t'other  half  to  your  grandmother.  She's  been 
real  good  to  me,  and  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  her,  I'm 
sure,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  emotion. 

•'  Why,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  you  ain't  weeping  about  what  that 
old  woman  told  you — are  you  ?  "  said  Minnie,  looking  up 
with  her  soft,  tender,  pitying  eyes,  as  Mr.  Toosypegs  wiped 
his  eyes  and  blew  his  nose,  with  a  look  of  deepest  affliction. 
"  Why,  it  was  only  Ranty  dressed  up." 

"  Ranty  1  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  springing  to  his  feet. 

"  Yes :  Ranty  Lawless,  you  know,  dressed  up  in  old 
clothes.  He  is  always  doing  things  like  that,  to  make  people 
laugh.     It  wasn't  any  old  woman  at  all — only  him." 

"  Mr.  Toosypegs  took  off  his  hat,  which,  all  this  time,  had 
been  on  his  head  ;  looking  helplessly  into  it,  and,  finding  no 
solution  of  the  mystery  there,  clapped  it  on  again,  sat  down, 
and  placing  both  hands  on  his  knees,  faced  round,  and 
looked  Erminie  straight  in  the  face. 

"  Miss  Minnie,  if  it  isn't  too  much  trouble,  would  you  say 
that  over  again  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Toosypegs,  blandly. 

"  Why,  it  isn't  anything  to  say,  Mr.  Toosypegs,"  said 
Minnie,  laughing  merrily  ;  "  only  Ranty,  you  know,  wanted 
to  make  us  think  him  an  old  witch,  and  dressed  himself  up 
that  way,  and  made  believe  to  tell  your  fortune.  You  needn't 
be  scared  about  it,  at  all." 

"Well.  I'm.  sure!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Toosypegs.  "You 
really  can't  think  what  a  relief  it  is  to  my  feelings  to  hear 


■ 


<.*imwimw*«** 


OUR  ERMINIE. 


147 


that.  Somehow,  my  feeling  are  always  relieved  when  I  m 
with  you,  Miss  Minnie.  Young  Mr.  Lawless  means  real 
well  I'm  sure,  but  then  it  kind  of  frightens  a  fellow  a  little. 
I  felt,  Miss  Minnie,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  placing  his  hand 
on  his  left  vest-pocket,  "  a  sort  of  feeling  that  kept  going  m 
and  out  here,  like-like- anything.  I  felt  as  if  I  was  headed 
up  in  a  hogshead,  all  full  of  spikes,  with  the  points  inward, 
and  then  being  rolled  downhill.  You've  often  felt  that  way, 
I  dare  say,  Miss  Minnie  ? "'  .,  ,      ,        ...  -j 

Minnie,  a  little  alarmed  at  this  terrible  description,  said 

^^' ''  WeU,^  I  keT'better  now.  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you," 
said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  drawing  a  deep  breath  of  intense  relief ; 
'^d  I  guess  I  wSn't  mind  my  will  this  afternoon ;  though 
I  sha-n't  forget  Mrs.  Ketura  when  I'm  f  ^"S- /^^^^'^^^^f^^^ 
happen  to  survive  me.  How  does  she  feel  to-day,  Miss 
Minme  ?  Excuse  me  for  not  asking  before  ;  but,  really  I've 
been  in  such  a  state  of  mind  all  the  morning  that  I  actually 
couldn't  tell  which  end  I  was  standing  en,  if  I  may  be  allowed 

^^SdmS'strll'a;  she  always  is,"  replied  Minnie. 
..  She  is  able  to  sit  up,  but  she  can't  walk,  or  come  down- 
stairs. She  won't  let  me  sit  with  her  either,  and  always 
says  she  wants  to  be  alone."  „ 

''  1  expect  her  son   preys  on  her  mind  a  good  deal,     said 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  reflectively,  ,       ,     „ 

"  He  was  drowned,"  said  Erminie,  in  a  low  tone 
«  Yes    I  know  ;  she  was  real  vexed  with  Lord  De  Courcy 
about  it,'  too.     I  dare  say  you  have  heard  her  talk  o   him 

"Yes,"  said   Erminie,  with  a  slight   shudder;  "  I  have 
heird  her  tell  Ray  how  he  must  hate  him  and  all  his  family, 
'rd  do  SI  all  tL  harm  he  could.     I  don't  Uke  to  hear 
such  things.     They  don't  seem  right.     I  heard  Father  Mur- 
ay  saying,  last  Sunday,  in  church,  we  must  forgive  our  en- 
emies,^r^;e  won't  be  forgiven  ourselves.        always  used   o 
come  away,  at  first,  when  grandmother  would  begin  to  ta  k 
about  hating  them  and  being  revenged  ;  ^ut  her  eyes  used  to 
blaze  up  like,  and  she  would  seem  so  angry  about  it,  that 
a  ?erward  I  stayed.     I  don't  like  to  hear  it  though,  and  I 
tu^y^lfy  not  t^  listen,  but  to  think  of  something  else  all 

the  time." 


I 


i^itmmwi' 


:=]ivn 


148 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW 


•'  I  suppose  young  Germaine  don't  mind,"  o«trt.erirfe(!  Mr. 

Toosypegs. 

«  No.  Ray  gets  fierce,  and  looks  so  dark  and  dreadtul 
that  I  feel  afraid  of  him  then,"  said  Erminie,  sadly.  "  He 
always  says,  when  he  is  a  man  he  will  go  to  England  and  do 
dreadful  things  to  them  all,  because  they  killed  his  father. 
I  don't  think  they  killed  him;  do  you,  Mr.  Toosypegs? 
They  couldn't  help  his  being  drowned,  I  think." 

"  Well,  you  know.  Miss  Minnie,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  entering  upon  an  abstruse  subject,  "  if 
they  hadn't  made  him  go  on  board  that  ship,  and  he  hadn't 
took  anything  else,  and  died,  he  would  have  been  livmg  yet. 
He  didn't  care  about  going,  but  they  insisted,  so  he  went, 
and  the  ship  struck  a— no,  it  wasn't  a  mermaid— the  shfp 
struck  a  coral  reef— yes,  that  was  it.  The  ship  struck  tha^ 
and  all  hands  were  lost.  Now,  where  the  fault  was,  1  can't 
say,  but  it  was  somewhere,  Miss   Minnie  1     That's  a  clea\ 

case."  .  •  u    u 

And  Mr.  Toosypegs  leaned  back  m  his  chair  with  th*j 
complacent  smile  of  a  man  who  has  explained  the  whok 
matter,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  very  dullest  intellect. 

Little  Minnie  looked  puzzled  and  wistful  for  a  moment,  as 
if,  notwithstanding  all  he  had  said,  the  affair  was  not  much 
clearer  ;  but  she  said  nothing. 

"  You're  his  daughter— ain't  you.  Miss  Minnie  ? '   said  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  briskly,  after  a  short  pause. 
"  Whose,  Mr.  Toosypegs  ?  "  asked  Minnie. 
"  Why,  him,  you  know  :  him  that  was  drowned." 
"  No,  I  guess  not,"  said   Erminie,    thoughtfully ;  "  Ray 
called  me  his  little  sister,  one  day,  before  grandmother,  and 
she  told  him  to  hush,  that  I  wasn't  his  sister.     I  guess  I'm 
his  cousin,  or  something;  but  I  don't  think  I'm  his  sister." 

"  Your  father  and  mother  are  dead,  I  reckon,"  said  Mr. 
Toosypegs. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so  ;  but  I  dare  say  you'll  laugh,  Mr. 
Toosvpegs.  but  it  never  seems  so.  I  dream  sometimes  of  the 
strangest  things."  And  Erminie's  soft  violet  eyes  grew 
misty*'and  dreamy  as  she  spoke,  as  though  gazing  on  some- 
thing afar  off.  ^.  .  ^ 
*"  Good  gracious  I  what  do  you  dream,  Mias  Mmnie  ;     i  m 


1 


OUR  ERMINIE. 


149 


as 


I'm 


sure  T  haven't  the  least  notion  of  laughing  at  all.     I  feel 
serious  as  anything,  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  1  sincerity. 

But  Erminie,  child  as  she  was,  shrunk  from  telling  any  one 
of  the  sweet,  beautiful  face  of  the  lady  who  came  to  her  so 
often  in  her  dreams  ;  and  so,  blushing  slightly,  she  bent  over 
her  work  in  silence.  , 

«  Doesn't  young  Germaine  know  who  your  father  and 
irotherwere?''  asked  Mr.  Toosypegs,  after  a  while,  seeing 
Erminie  was  not  going  to  tell  him  about  ^^^r  d'-eams 

<'  No  Ray  doesn't  know,  either.  Grandmother  won  t  tell, 
but  he  thinks  I'm  hio  cousin ;  I  guess  I  am,  too,  said  Er- 
minie,  adopting  the  belief  with  the  careless  confidence  of 

'^'.1  Wellfyou  were  born  in  England,  anyway/'  said  Mr  Too- 
svpegs,  "for  you  were  only  a  little  baby,  the  size  of  tha 
when  you  left  it,"  holding  his  hand  about  an  inch  and  a  half 
above  the  floor.  "  Most  likely  you're  a  gipsy,  though-./^^  s 
a  gipsy,  you  know,"  added  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  rnystenous 
whisper,  pointing  to  the  ceiling. 

<'  Yes  I  knows"  said  Ermiuie,  with  an  intelligent  nod  ;  I 
heard  her  tell  Ray  so  ;  she  used  to  tell  him  a  goo^  "^^"X 
thTngs  but  she  never  tells  me  anything.  I  guess  she  thmks 
I  don'i  love  her,  but  1  do.     Did  you  ever  see  that  Lord  De 

^°"No!'but  I  saw  his  son.  Lord  ViUiers,  and  his  wife.  Lady 
Maude.  My  gracious  I  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  an 
unexpected  outburst  of  enthusiasm,  "  she  was  the  handsomest 
woman  in  the  world  I  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  b  ^w  good- 
Lking  she  was  1  If  all  the  handsome  women  ever  you  saw 
w.?e  meltedlto  one,  they  wouldn't  be  near  so  good-looking 

"..nt  ^"h'ould  like  to  see  her  1 "  said  little  Erminie 
laying  down  her  work  with  a  wistful  sigh.      '  lell  me  about 

^'''wdl,'^shrhrd^fo^^^  ^/.'.\^''u'  ^°" 

know,  but  long  and  soft;  and  the  most  splendid  black  eyes 
-bright  straight  through  a  fellow,  easy  1  She  was  pale 
and  swfef  1  always  used  to  think  of  white  cream-candy 
wi™  Isaw  her^Iiss  Minnie;  and  then  her  smile^i^ 
,.,-,  1....  v.u^  op  on,r*>l's— not  that  I  ever  saw  an  angel,  Miss 


TOTf 


::3iwn 


150 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


Minnie,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  qualifying  his  admission, 
reluctantly,  "but  they  must  have  looked  like  her." 

Erminie  had  listened  to  this  description  with  clasped 
hands,  flushed  cheeks,  parted  lips  and  dilating  eyes.  As 
Mr.  Toosypegs  paused,  she  impetuously  exclaimed  : 

"Oh,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  I've  seen  her!  I've  seen  her 
often  1  " 

"  Good  gracious  I  "  said  the  astonished  Mr.  Toosypegs,  "I 
can't  see  where;  1  guess  you  only  think  so,  Miss  Minnie." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  don't ;  indeed  I  don't ;  I  know  I  have  seen 
her.  That  lovely  lady  with  the  beautiful  smile,  and  soft 
black  eyes.     Oh,  I  know;  I've  seen  her,  Mr.  Toosypegs," 

«'  Land  of  hope  1  where.  Miss  Minnie  ?  " 

But  Minnie  had  recovered  from  her  sudden  joy  and  sur- 
prise at  hearing  of  the  resemblance  between  this  beautiful 
lady  and  the  lovely  vision  of  her  dreams,  and  pausing  now, 
she  blushed,  and  said ; 

"  Please  don't  ask  me,  Mr.  Toosypegs;  yo.:  would  think 
me  silly,  I  guess.  I  must  go  and  help  Lucy  to  get  dinner 
now.     You'll  stay  for  dinner — won't  you,  Mr.  Toosypegs  ? '' 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Minnie,"  said  the  gratified  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, "  I  certainly  will,  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure ;  I'm 
very  much  obliged  to  you." 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 


pet's  peril. 


"  Who  '■  "  express  the  horror  of  that  night, 

W;        darkness  lent  his  robes  to  monster  fear? 
And  ,     iven's  black  mantle,  batiishing  the  light, 
Made  everj-thing  in  ugly  fonn  appear."' 

Miss  Petronilla  Lawless  having,  as  Ranty  would  have 
expressed  it,  got  the  steam  up  to  a  high  pressure,  thundered 
over  the  heath,  entered  the  forest  road,  and  looked  with  eyes 
sparkling  with  defiance  at  the  dark,  gloomy  pine  woods  on 
either  hand.  The  brio-ht  moi'nine:  sunshine,  fallinsx  in  a 
radiant  shower  through  the  waving  boughs  of  the  pines. 


i^juw^^fl^M  ^^*""^^^ 


PET'S  PERIL. 


'51 


her 
'I 


?  '■ 


irilded  the  crimson  glow  on  her  thin  cheeks  and  hps,  and 
b  uuoht   fiery  circlets  of   flame  through  all  her  short,  cnsp, 

ettv'curls.  Darkly  beautiful  looked  the  little  w.  ful  e  f.  as 
ihe  slackened  her  pace  through  the  narrow  sylvan  forest 
path,  as  if  to  give  any  hidden  enemy,  if  such  lurked  there,  a 

uU  opportunity  of  making  his  appearance.  None  came, 
nowever  ;  and  twenty  minutes  brought  her  in  sight  of  the 
gloomy  gorge  in  the  cleft  mountain,  so  appropriately  named 

^  pa  slackened  the  mad  pace  at  which  she  had  started  still 
more,  and  loosening  her  bridle-reins,  allowed  her  sure-footed 
pony,  Starlight,  to  choose  his  own  way  down  the  narrow, 
unsafe  bridle-path.  .  , 

As  she  approached  the  house,  she  ran  her  eye,  with  a 
critical  look,  over  it,  and  muttering,  "  Miss  Pnscilla  s  been 
making  improvements,"  prepared  to  alight. 

\  great  change  for  the  better,  too,  had  taken  place  in  the 
appearance   of   Dismal  Hollow,  since  the  advent  of   Miss 
PrisciUa.     The  great  pools  of  green  slimy  water  were  no 
[onger  co  be  seen  before  the  door ;  the  receptacles  for  mud 
and  filth  had  vanished,  as  if  by  magic.     A  clean,  dry  plat- 
form spread  out  where  these  had  once  been  ;  the  windows 
were  no  longer  stuffed  full  of   rags  and  old  hats,  but  with 
glass  panes,  that  fairly  glittered  with  cleanliness  ;  broken 
fences  were  put  up,  outhouses  were  repaired,  and  the  whole 
house  had  evidently  undergone  a  severe  course  of  regenera- 
tion     Inside,  the  improvements  were  still  more  remarkable. 
Everv'  room  had  undergone  a  vigc  -ous  course  of  scrubbing, 
washing,  papering,  and  plastering,  ind  the  doors  and  win- 
dows had^^een   closed,   and    hermetically    sealed,   and    no 
sacrilegious  foot  was  ever  permitted  to  enter  and  "  muss  up 
as  Miss  PrisciUa  expressed  it,  those  cherished  apartments 
wherein   her  soul  delighted.     The  only   rooms  m  the  old 
house  which  she  permitted  to  be  profaned  by  use  were  a 
couple  of  sleeping  apartments,  a  little  sitting-room,  and  the 
kitchen.     The  servants,  for  so  long  a  time  accustomed    o  do 
as  they  liked,  and  lazy   about  as  they  pleased,  were  struck 
with  dismay  at  Miss  Priscilla's  appalling  vigor  and  neatness 
That  worthy  lady  declared  it  was  not  only  a  ^h^J"^^'.^^"^  f 
.in.  to  be  eaten  out  of  house  and  home  by  a  parcel  of     shit- 
less niggers  ;  "  and  one  of  her  very  first  acts  was  lo  mrchalt 


taiwn 


152 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


1  :i 


of  them  out  to  any  one  who  would  employ  them.  The  re- 
mxinder  were  then  informed,  in  very  short  terms,  that  if  they 
did  not  mind  thei'-  P's  and  Q's,  they'd  be  "  sold  to  Georgy  " 
— a  threat  su.T.-ient  to  terrify  them  into  neatness  and  order 
sufficient  even  to  satisfy  "  Miss  'Silly,"  as  they  called  her. 

On  this  particular  morning,  Miss  Priscilla  sat  up  in  her 
sitting-room — a  little,  stiff,  square,  prim,  upright  and  down- 
right sort  of  an  apartment,  with  no  foolery  in  the  shape  of 
little  feminine  nicknacks  or  ornaments  about  it,  but  every- 
thing as  distressingly  clean  as  it  was  possible  to  be.  Miss 
Priscilla  herself,  radiant  in  a  scanty,  fady  calico  gown,  reach- 
ing to  her  ankles,  a  skimpy  black  silk  apron,  and  a  stiff, 
solemn,  grim-looking  mob  cap,  was  ensconced  in  a  rocking- 
chair,  that  kept  up  an  awful  "  screechy-scrawchy,"  as  she 
rocked  backward  and  forward,  knitting  away  as  if  her  life 
depended  on  it.  Very  hard,  and  grim,  and  sour  looked 
Miss  Priscilla,  as  she  sat  there  with  her  sharp,  cankerous 
lips  so  tightly  shut  that  they  reminded  one  of  a  vise,  and 
her  long,  bony  nose  running  out  everlastingly  into  the  thin 
regions  of  space. 

The  sharp  clatter  of  horse's  hoofs  arrested  her  attention, 
and  she  turned  and  looked  sharply  out  of  the  window.  The 
sour  scowl  deepened  on  her  vinegar  phiz,  as  she  perceived 
Pet  in  the  act  of  alighting. 

"  That  sharp  little  wiper  of  a  Lawless  girl,"  muttered  Miss 
Priscilla,  "  coming  here,  with  a  happetite  that's  hawful  to 
contemplate,  when  she's  not  wanted ;  turning  heverything 
topsy-turvy,  not  to  speak  of  that  there  pigeon-pie  what's  for 
dinner  being  honly  henough  for  one.     Wah  I  wah  !  " 

And  with  a  look  that  seemed  the  very  essence  of  distilled 
vengeance,  and  everything  else  sour,  sharp  and  cankerous, 
Miss  Priscilla  went  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  called : 

"  Kupy  1  Kupy  1  "  (her  abbreviation  of  Cupid),  "go  and 
hopen  the  door  for  that  Lawless  girl,  which  is  come,  and 
bring  her  pony  hinto  the  barn,  and  show  her  hup  'ere;  hand 
don't  mind  a-givin'  hof  her  hany  boats.     Be   quick  there  1  " 

As  Miss  Priscilla,  who  looked  with  contempt  upon  bells  as 
a  useless  superfluity,  had  a  remarkably  shrill,  ear-splitting 
voice  of  her  own,  the  order  to  be  quick  seemed  quite  unnec- 
essary ;  for  Cupid,  clapping  his  hand  over  his  bruised  and 
wounded  ear-drums,   hastened    to   the  door  as  rapidly  as. 


c 
tl 

tl 
.1 
s 
c 
I: 
c 
r 


PET'S  PERIL. 


153 


>g 


possible,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  noise.     Then  Miss  Pns- 
cilla  walked  back  to  her  chair,  and  deposited  her  bony  form 
^l^^.rein— determining,  with  a  sort  of  sour  grimness,  to  make 
the  l^est  of  a  bad  bargain.     Not  that  Miss  Priscilla  thought 
anything  of  the  courtesies  of  hospitality.     She  was  above 
such  weakness.     But  Pet  Lawless  was  the  daughter  of  one 
of  the  richest  and  most  influential  men  in  the  State— would 
he  a  great  heiress  and  fine  lady  some  day ;  and  Miss  Pris- 
cilia   being  only  flesh  and  blood,  like  the  rest  of   us,  could 
no^  help  feeling  a  deep  veneration  for  wealth.     Personally, 
she  disliked  our  mad  little  whirligig  more  than  anybody  else 
she  knew.     But  money,  like  charity,  covereth  a  multitude 
of  sins  •  and  as  Miss  Pet  would  inherit  half  a  million  some 
day,  Miss  Priscilla  Toosypegs,  looking  into  the   womb  of 
futurity,  was  disposed  to  forgive  her  now  the  awful  crime  of 
"  mussing  up  "  her  immaculate  rooms,  in  the  hope  of  a  sub- 
stantial return  when  the  little  madcap  entered  upon  her  fort- 
Pet  having  by  this  time  alighted,  ran   up  the  steps,  and, 
with  the  end  of  her  riding  whip,  knocked  so  vociferously  that 
she  awoke  everj  slumbering  echo  in  the  quiet  old  house. 

Cupid,  half-deafened  between  the  piercing  voice  of  Miss 
Priscilla  within,  and  the  vigorous  clamor  without,  threw  open 
the  door;  and  Pet,  with  her  ridinghabit  gathered  up  in  one 
hand,  and  flourishing  her  whip  in  the  other,  stood  there, 
bright,  and  sparkling,  and  fresh  as  a  mountain-daisy  before 

^^"Well,  Cupe  how  are  you  these  times  ?     Eh  ?  Miss  Pris- 
cilla at  home  ? "  .  „ 

"  Yes,  Miss  Pet.     Miss  Silly  tole  me  to   tell  you  you  was 

to  walk  right  up,"  said  Cupid.  .        ,  .  ,       , 

"  Very  well.  Take  Starlight,  and  give  him  a  good  rub- 
bing, and  then  plenty  of  oats  and  water.  He's  had  a  hard 
gallop  of  it  this  morning-poor  fellow!"  said  Pet,  as  she 
passed  Cupid,  and  ran  up-stairs.  "Now  to  face  the  old 
dragon  !  "  she  muttered,  as,  puckering  up  her  rosy  mouth  m 
a  fruitless  attempt  to  whistle,  she  swaggered  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  dread  spinster,  with  her  usual  springing,  jaunty 

Air 

"  She  hates  me,  and  she  hates  kisses,"  said  Pet,  mentally ; 

"  SO   i  U  kiss   ncr,    ii   X   UiC   in  mu   an.--iS.iK  -        :    -XS--        ■  --  o- 


:ai%in 


,54  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

ancel  verdigris  1  vitriol,  and   vinegar  1    I'd  as  lief  swallow 
a  dose  of    sourkrout,    and    have  done    with  it.     It's  going 

to   be  awful,  I  know  ;  but  I'll  do  it  1  "       

••  Morning,  Miss  Pet,"  said  Miss  PrisciUa,  looking  grimly 

<«0h,  Miss  Priscilla,  how  do  you  do  1  Oh,  Miss  Pris- 
ciUa 1    'I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  again  I  "  ,.  ,    ,•     1  • 

And  before  Miss  Priscilla  dreamed  of  her  diabolical  in- 
tention, the  elf  had  sprung  forward,  clutched  her  by  the 
throat,  and  clung  to  her  like  a  clawfish,  while  half  a  dozen 
short,  sharp  kisses  went  off  like  so  many  pop  guns  on  the 
withered  cheek  of  the  luckless  old  maid. 

With  no  gentle  hand,  Miss  Pri.cilla  caught  the  monkey 
by  the  shoulder,  and  hurled  her  from  her  with  a  violence 
that  sent  her  spinning  like  a  top  across  the  room. 

"  It's  all  very  well  for  people  to  be  glad  to  see  people, 
which  is  honly  uman  nature,"  began  Miss  Priscilla,  in  a 
high,  shrill  falsetto,  while  she  adjusted  her  dislocated  mob- 
cap-  "but  that  hain't  no  reason  why  people  must  ave  the 
clothes  tore  hof=f  their  back  by  people,  just  because  they  re 
glad  to  see  them— which  is  something  I  never  was  used  to, 
Miss  Pet ;  and  though  hit  may  be  the  fashion  hin  this  ere 
country,  hit's  something  I  don't  happrove  of  hat  all,  Miss 
Pet  Now,  you'll  hexcuse  me  for  saying  I  would  rather  you 
wouldn't  do  so  no  more— which  is  disagreeable  to  the  feel- 
ings,  not  to  speak  of  mussing  up  people's  caps  as  is  some 
bother  to  hiron  ;  though  you  mayn't  think  so.  Miss  Pet. 

And  having  delivered  herself  of  this  brilliant  and  highly- 
grammatical  oration,  and  thereby  relieved  her  mmd,  Miss 
Priscilla  picked  up  a  stitch  in  her  knitting,  which,  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment,  she  had  dropped 

"  Why,  Miss  Priscilla,  I'm  sorry  ;  I'm  sure  I  didn  t  mean 
to  make  you  mad,"  said  Pet,  in  a  penitent  tone.  "But  I 
was  so  glad  to  see  you,  you  know,  I  couldn't  help  it.    Where  s 

Orlando?"  .      ,      ^       ,  .    .     1        i 

"  Hat  them  there  Barrens,  which  is  the  desolatest  place  1 
hever  seen,"  said  Miss  Priscilla  ;  «  hall  weeds  ;  and  there 
you'll  find  him,  with  nothing  growing  but  nasty  grass  hall 
halong  hof  that  there  hold  gipsy  woman  and  little  gal,  stead 


hof  stavin.f^  at   ome, 


hand  'tending  to  his  'fairs,  as  a  respect- 


able member  hof  s'ciety  bought  for  to  do;  heaving  away 


his 


)«»*«»*»*.•■ 


PET'S  PERIL. 


155 


money,  with  me  slavin'  hand  to.lm'  from  week  s  hend  o 
week's  hend,  smoking  hof  nasty  cigars  as  spiles  he  t«th 
and  luindermines  the  hintellecks;  ^.hlch  was  something  s 
blessed  father  (now  a  hangel  hup  there  in  the  gravey.ird 
never  did  ;  and  shows  'ow  youth  is  u  degeneratin  .  Wah  I 
wah!"  said  Miss  Priscilla,  concluding  with  her  usual  gnm- 

^^^Jur^'i:^Pri^illa.rve  often  had  to  talk  to  our 
Ranty  about  it,  to<V' said  Pet,  gravely ;"  but  these  boys 
are  all  a  nasty  set,  you  know,  and  don't  mind  us  gir  s  at  al . 
rve  come  to  \tay  all  day,  Miss  Priscilla  "  And  Pet  tocM. 
off  her  hat  and  gloves  as  she  spoke.  "  I  thought  you  migh 
be  lonesome,  and  knew  you'd  be  glad  to  have  me  here  ;  and 
I  don't  really  know  of  any  place  I  like  to  be  so  well  as  I  do 

to  be  here ! "  .        ,  .         r  1  cu     u«  ..,-,0 

All  the  time  Pet  had  been  uttering  this  awful  fib,  she  was 
takinjr  of!  her  things,  and  pitching  them  about  in  a  way  that 
mad^Miss  Priscilla  gasp  with  horror.  Her  hat  was  thrown 
into  one  corner,  her  gloves  into  ^"°J»^^'^',,»^^er^whip  in  o 
a  third,  and  her  pocket-handkerchief,  collar  and  brooch 
nnvwhere  thev  cho^e  to  fall. 

?.  You  needn't  go  putting  yourself  out  about  dinner.  Miss 
Priscilla,"  said  Pet,  who  well  knew  the  spm.ter  s  parsimoni- 
ou  ne  s   n  this  respect,  and  thought  she  would  just  give  her  a 
hUit      "  Anything  will  do  for  me-.i  broiled  chicken,  with  a 
minie  pie   and  some  grapes ;  or    some  nice  mutton  chops, 
fried  lii  butter,  with  a  lice-pudding,  or  a  cu.tard-anything. 
voii  know      But  don't  put  yourself  out  1  " 
^^  don't  hintend  to,"  said  Miss    Priscilla,  knitting  away 
crimlv.     "  I  never  do  put  myself  hout  for  hanybody  ;  wouldn  t 
for   the  President   hof   the  United  States  or  the  King  ho 
Hingland-no,  not  hif  he  was  to  come    hall   the  way  fiom 
Lunnon  hon  his  two  blessed  bare  knees  to   hask  h.    hof  me 
has  a  favor.     Hand  hif  you'd  pick  up  them  there  clothes  of 
your'n.  Miss  Pet,  which  his  hall  pitched  habout,  hand  gives 
he  room  a'  huntidy  look,  and  put  them  hon  the  table  hand 
call  to  Haunt  Bob  to  carry  them  hup-stairs,  I'd  feel  heasier 

'"^Sluetthlm  layl"  said  Pet,  indifferently.  "  They're 
old  things  ;  and  I  ain't  particular  about  them.  I  guess  the 
floor  won't  dirty  them  much  1 " 


156  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

••My  floor's  clean,  Miss  Pet,  I'd  have  you  for  to  know, 
hand  wouldn't  dirty  hanybody's  things  1  "  answered  Miss 
Priscilla,  sharply,  and  with  flashing  eyes;  "but  them  there 
things  hof  your'n  musses  hit  hup,  which  his  somethmg  I 
■lever  likes  my  room  to  be,  being  neat  myself,  a-slavin'.  and 
toilin',  and  strivin'  to  keep  things  to  rights  from  mornmg 
till  night,  with  people  a-pitchin'  hof  things  round  huntil  hit 
looks  Hke  a  'og-stye.     VVah  !  wah  1  " 

And  Miss  Priscilla  got  up  and  picked  up  all  Pet  s  gar- 
ments, and  carricKl  them  up  to  her  own  bedroom,  out  of  the 

way.  ,      •     1  •  f 

And  then  Pet,  with  her  diabolical  spirit  of  mischief  up- 
periiK^^t,  went  flying  through  the  house,  opening,  shutting, 
slamming  and  banging  the  doors,  in  a  way  that  drove  the 
peace  loving  spinster  to  the  verge  of  madness,  and  made 
her  sour  temper  ten  degrees  sourer,  until  her  very  look 
would  have  turned  treacle  to  vinegar.  In  and  out,  up  and 
down  stairs,  getting  astride  of  the  bannisters  and  sliding 
down,  at  the  imminent  danger  of  breaking  her  neck,  ran- 
sacking every  room,  and  turning  everything  topsy-turvy  and 
upside-down,  and  'mussing  things"  generally,  until  Miss 
Priscilla  Toosypegs  '^  vowed  a  \  a-  "  in  her  secret  heart  that 
the  next  time  she  saw  Miss  Petronilla  Lawless  coming,  she 
would  loc  k  every  door  in  the  house,  and  send  Cupid  out 
witii  his  "  biunderingbuss  "  to  shoot  her,  rather  than  let  her 
ever  darken  her  do(jrs  again. 

Dinner  at  length  was  announced,  and  Miss  Priscilla  be- 
<Mn  to  breathe  freely  again,  in  the  hope  of  at  least  a  few 
moments,  respite  from  her  tormentor.  As  Pet  entered  the 
sitting-room— for  Miss  Toosypegs  dined  in  her  sitting-room 
—her  thin,  dark,  bright  face  all  aglow  with  fun  and  frolic ; 
her  black  eyes  dancing  and  sparkling  with  insufferable  light ; 
her  short,  crisp,  black  curls  all  tangled  and  damp  over  her 
shoulders  and  round,  polished,  saucy,  boyish  forehead,  she 
looked  the  very  embodiment,  the  very  incarnate  spirit  of 
mischief  and  mirth.  She  looked  like  a  little  grenade,  all 
jets  r.nd  sparkles—a  little  barrel  of  gunpowder,  at  any  mo- 
ment ready  to  e.vplode— a  wild,  untamed  little  animal,  very 
beautiful,  but  very  dangerous. 

And  there,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  greatest  contrast 

'lat  could  well  be 


o  her  dark,  bri^ 


LU 


fierv  little  neighboi 


PET'S  PERIL. 


»57 


found,  sat  Miss  Toosypegs,  as  pr^m.  stiff  and   ^V^^^^ /^ 
she  had  swallowed  a  ramrod-as  sour,  sharp  and    .ud  as  ,f 
she  hud  been  spoon-fed  on  verj.   ce  from  mfancy  upward 

Pel's  eyes  went  dancing  over   the   table   to   examine  the 
bil   of  fare.     Now,  reader,  our  Pet  was  not  a  gourmand,  nor 
ya  an  l:^:^u.e,  by'any  means-what  she  got  to  cat  ^^ 
little  trouble  to  her,  indeed  ;  but   she    knew  Miss  Prr-clla 
"    intent'y  miscrl '.  and.  having    plenty,  ^l^^-^^.^^^^ 
ruhuleaton  at   her  boa.  1      'i'^^r^-'fore    the  walked  httle 
elf  detcrmi,.ed  to  give  her  a  slight  idea  of  what   she   couU. 
fin  in  the  eatintr-line  when  provoked  to  it. 
'^BtaUf  little  was  there  on  that  table  to  P-voke    he  ap- 
Detite      Two  cups  of  pale,  sickly-lookmg   tea,  a   plate  >Mth 
Four  smaC  dropsical-looking  potatoes,  a   <— Ptwe  re^" 
herring.    and,  by  way  of  dessert,  a  p.geon-pie.      Ihat  -.as 

^^^Pet's  face  fell  to  a  formidable  length  for  an  instant  ;  the 
next  a  S  iclea  strv;ck  her,  and  she  inwardly  excla.n.cn. 
as^;c  sa%iss  Priscilla's  eyes  rest  lovingly  on  the   p.g'XM> 

^''' Pet     hikl,  vo.  'U  be  starved,  you  know,  if  you  don't  k.ok 

out    bef)'      you  ^-.t   home.     It's  your    duty  to  show  Miss 

t^XX:i   si;,  owes  to  her   quests  ;  so  you  wak^.^ 

into  that  p.     or.pie,  and  eat  every  morsel  of  it,  though  you 

''^t'1wr!,"Mi..  Pet;-  said  Miss  Priscilb  solemnly, 
pointing  to  her  chair,  and  holding  her  knife  and  fork  threat> 
?n  nLlv  over  the  ghostly-looking  red-hernng,  "  for  wha  we 
r^out  to  receive.     Which  dt  you  like  best,  the  'ead   or 

vigorously  cutting  it  up.  Priscilla  " 

''  1  always    make  myselt   at  home   here   Miss  ^"sciiia 

..ir/pet  soeakinti  with  her  mouth  full.     "  I  know  you  am  t 

otlofdXts^nd  nobody  has  such  nice  pi^eonP,-^- 

von  hive      You  made  t  on  purpose  for  me—Uicin  t  you  .   i 

L^d    rnot\o  put  you..,f  t^^,an>--„t  Mis^'' pSS  ' 
but  you  would,  you  know.     It  s  real  nice,  mis^ 


»f^>f 


TWff 


::9tMn 


158  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

and  I'd  ask  you  to  have  some,  only  I  know  you  don't  care 

about  it." 

And  all  this  time  Pet  had  been  crunching  away,  half 
choking  herself  in  her  haste. 

And  Miss  Priscilla  1  What  pen  shall  describe  her  feel- 
ings when  she  saw  that  cherished  pigeon-pie— the  making 
of  which  she  had  been  deliberating  about  for  a  week  before 

that  pigeon-pie,  which  had  been  uppermost  in   her  mind 

all  morning,  vanishing  before  her  eyes  with  such  frightful 
rapidity  ?  The  English  language  is  weak,  is  utterly  power- 
less to  describe  how  she  felt.  There  she  sat,  as  if  turned 
to  stone,  her  knife  and  fork  still  poised  over  the  herring, 
speechless  with  horror  and  amazement,  her  eyes  frozen  to 
the  face  of  Pet,  while  still  her  cherished  pigeon-pie  kept  dis- 
appearing like  mist  before  the  morning  sun. 

"  Do  take  your  dinner,  Miss  Priscilla.  \\'hy,  you  ain't  eat- 
ing anything,  hardly,"  said  the  wicked  little  wretch,  as  her 
fork  went  up  and  down  from  her  plate  to  her  mouth  with 
the  nearest  approach  to  perpetual  motion  the  horrihed  spin- 
ster had  ever  seen.  "Just  see  how  I'm  getting  along. 
This  pie  is  really  beautiful,  Miss  Priscilla.  Oh,  I  love 
pigeon-pie;  and  only  I  know  you'd  rather  see  me  eat  it,  I'd 
make  you  have  a  piece.  There!  I've  finished  1  "  said  Pet, 
pushing  aside  the  empty  plate,  and  leaning  back  in  her  chair 
in  a  state  almost  "  too  full  for  utterance."  "  Oh,  that 
pigeon-pie  was — was— actually  divine  I  It  just  was,  Miss 
Priscilla;  and  I'd  come  to  see  you  every  day  if  you'd  only 
make  me  one  like  that." 

Without  a  word,  but  with  a  look  that  might  have  turned 
scarlet  any  face  less  hard  than  that  of  the  wicked  little  elf, 
Miss  Priscilla  began  her  dinner.  Nothing  daunted.  Pet  sat 
and  talked  away  unceasingly ;  but  never  a  word  came  from 
the  penknife-lips  of  Miss  Priscilla  Toosypegs.  Then,  when 
the  slender  repast  was  over,  Aunt  Bob  was  called  up  from 
the  lower  regions  to  clear  away  the  service  ;  and  Pet  sat  in 
her  chair,  feeling  it  inconvenient  to  do  anything  but  talk, 
just  then  ;  and  talk  she  did,  with  a  right  good  will,  for  two 
mortal  hours  ;  and  still  Miss  Priscilla  sat  knitting  and  knit- 
ting away,  and  speaking  never  a  word. 

"  The  cress,  cantankerous,  sharp-nosed  old  thing  1  "  mut- 
tered Pe*^  at  last,  gelling  tired  of  this  unprofitable  occupa- 


,mfS*^^--<'*"T-' 


care 


PET'S  PERIL. 


159 


tion.  "The  stingy  old  miser  !  to  sit  there  sulking  because 
I  ate  the  only  thing  fit  to  eat  on  the  table.  1  declare  I  if  1 
haven't  a  good  mind  to  come  every  day  and  do  the  same, 
just  for  her  ugliness  1  Oh,  yaw-w-w  !  how  sleepy  I  am  .  I 
guess  I've  done  all  the  mischief  I  can  do,  just  now,  so  I 
ao  to  sleep.  I'd  go  home,  only  I  said  I  wouldn  t  go  till 
dark  and  I  won't,  either  1  So,  now.  Pet,  child,  you  drop 
into 'the 'arms   of  Murphy,' as    Ranty  says,  as  fast    as  you 

'  And  curling  herself  up  in   her  chair,  with  her  head  pil- 
lowed on  her  arm,  Pet,  in  five  minutes,  was  sound  asleep. 


From  her  slumbers  she  was  awoke  by  a  vigorous  shake, 
given  by  no  gentle  hand.  Pet  started  up,  rubbed  her  eyes, 
tnd  beheld  Miss  PrisciUa,  by  the  light  of  a  lamp  she  car- 
ried,  bending  over  her.  . 

"  I'm  a-going  to  bed,  Miss  Lawicss,"  said  Miss  Pnscilla. 
grimly ;  "  hand  hunless  you  intends  staying  all  night— 
which!  shouldn't  be  hany  surprised  at  hif  you  was-hit  s 
time  vou  was  a-going  'ome."  .       ,  „       .         •       *    u 

«  Why,  how  late  is  it  ?  "   e     laimed  Pet,  jumping  to  her 

feet 

"Height   o'clock,  hand  as   dark  as   a  wolf's  mouth,  hat 

iL       J.    >> 

"  My  stars  1  And  isn't  tea  ready  yet.  Miss  Priscilla  ? " 
"  I've  'ad  my  tea  a'  hour  ago,"  said  Miss  Pnscilla,  with  a 
grim  sort  of  smile.  "You  was  so  sound  hasleep  I  didn't 
care  about  wakening  hof  you,  not  to  speak  hof  aveing  heat 
so  much  for  your  dinner,  I  didn't  think  you'd  care  for  hany 
tea.  'Ere's  your  things.  Miss  Pet,  and  your  oss  is  at  the 
door  ;  but  you  can  stay  hall  night,  hif  you  like." 

"I  won't  stay  ail  night  1  I'll  never  come  here  again— 
yes  I  will  too  1  Fll  come  every  single  day— see  if  I  don  t, 
exclaimed  Pet,  bouncing  across  the  room,  and  giving  her 
hat  a  slap  on  her  head.  "  I  know  you  don't  want  me  and 
I'll  just  come  !  If  you  was  to  our  house,  do  you  think  I  d 
pack  vou  oflE  without  any  tea  ?  No,  I  wouldn  t  if  I  had  to 
boil  the  tea-leaves  we  used  the  last  time  for  it !  It  just  shows 
the  sor^  of  f^lk«;  Englishers  are.  and  I  wish  there  wasn  t  one 


:3ii%fn 


i6o  THE  GYPSY  QUEENS  VOW. 

in  the  world-I  just  do  ;  and  I  don't  care  who  hears  me 
savin-  it  I'm  a-going.  Miss  Priscilia,  and  I  vow  to  Sam  ! 
I'll  be  back  to-morrow,  and  the  next  day,  and  the  next— see 

it  I  don't  !  "  ,«••,•!♦ 

\nd  while  scolding  furiously,  and  flingmg  things  about 
in  .1  manner  perfectly  awful  to  so  neat  a  housekeeper  as  the 
•,ricit  spinster,  Miss  Petronilla  had  managed  to  dress  hcr- 
'.;  It  and  descend  the  stairs,  while  Miss  Priscilia,  grim  as  a 
cist-iron  statue,  stood  at  the  head,  hMmg  the  light.  1  et 
i-lounced  out  of  the  hall,  giving  the  door  a  terrihc  bang  be- 
hind her,  and  stepped  out  into  the  night. 

liy  the  light  that  streamed  from  the  glass  top  of  the  door. 
Pet  saw  Cupid  holding  her  pony.  Springing  lightly  on  his 
back,  she  gathered  up  the  reins,  and  paused  a  moment  before 

starting  to  look  around.  xt  .     u      u 

The  night  was  pitch  dark,  still,  and  sultry.  Not  a  breath 
of  air  moved,  not  a  leaf  rustled  ;  but  from  the  inky  pall  of 
deepest  gloom  overhead,  short,  fitful  flashes  of  lighLning  at 
intervals    blazed.     A  storm  was  at  hand,  and  would  soon 

burst.  ...    ,,       J  /^      •  I 

"  For  de  Lor's  sake  1  hurry.  Miss  Petronilla,    said  Cupid, 
in  a  frightened  whisper.     "  Bar's  de  awfulest  storm  a-comin 
to-night  you  ever  see'd.     Miss  'Silly  oughtn't  'lowed  you  to 
eo  froo  de  woods  to-night." 

"Miss  'Silly,  indeed  1  I  guess  she  hopes  I  may  only  get 
my  neck  broke  before  I  get  home,"  said  Pet,  shortly  as  she 
turned  her  pony's  head  in  the  direction  of  the  bridle-path 

leading  through  the  gorge.  ,     ,    a  ,u. 

The  sure-footed  steed,  left  to  himself,  securely  trod  the 
narrow  path,  and  entered,  at  last,  upon  the  forest  road. 
Having  nothing  else  to  do.  Pet  began  ruminating. 

"If  that  ain't  what  I  call  mean  1  "  she  indignantly  mut- 
tered- "  sending  me  off  like  an  Arab,  without  anything  to 
eat.  The  hateful,  stingy  old  thing  1  I  like  that  soft  green, 
good-natured  Orlando,  but  I  can't  bear  her.  'Sh-h-h  1  softly. 
Starlight,  my  boy  1  there's  niggers  in  these  woods,  you  know, 
who  wouldn't  mind  chawing  you  and  me  nght  up. 

Even  while  she  spoke,  a  hand  graspec  aer  bndle-rein,  and 
a  deep,  stern  voice  cried  : 

H  Stop  1  "  ,   1.     ,  • 

At  the  same  moment  there  came  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning, 


lars  me 

0  Sam  ! 
xt — see 

s  about 
r  as  the 
ess  hcr- 
rn  as  a 
It.  Pet 
)ang  be- 

le  door, 

on  his 

it  before 

a  breath 
J  pall  of 
ming  at 
lid  soon 

i  Cupid, 
a-comin' 

1  you  to 

only  get 
J,  as  she 
idle-path 

trod  the 
est  road. 

itly  mut- 
y'thing  to 
ft,  green, 
\  1  softly, 
,^ou  know, 

!-rein,  and 


PLAYING  WITH  EDGED  TOOLS.  i6i 

and  Pet  beheld,  for  a  second,  the  face  of  a  negro  black  as  a 
demon.     The  next  instant  all  was  deepest  darkness  again. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PLAYING   WITH    EDGED   TOOLS. 

«  Thinkest  thou  there  dwells  no  courage  but  in  breasts 
That  set  their  mail  against  the  ringing  spears 
When  helmets  are  struck  down  ?     Thou  little  knowest 
Of  nature's  marvels."— Mrs.  Hk.mans. 

Miss  Petronilla  Lawless  was  an  exceedingly  precocious, 
an  exceedingly  courageous,  and  an  exceedingly  self-possessed 
young  lady,  as  our  readers  are  aware,  yet  now  her  brave 
heart  for  one  moment  seemed  to  die  within  her,  and  a  ter- 
rified shriek  arose  and  was  barely  suppressed  on  her  lips. 
The  hour,  the  scene,  the  darkness,  the  danger,  might  have 
made  an  older  and  stronger  person  quail.  Alone  in  the 
woods,  where  no  scream  for  help  could  be  heard,  with  the 
gloom  of  Hades  all  around,  save  when  the  blue  blaze  of  the 
heat-lightning  flashed  for  a  moment  through  the  darkiiess, 
helpless  and  alone,  in  the  power  of  a  fierce,  blood-thirsty 
negro  For  one  instant,  a  deadly  inclination  to  swoon  came 
over  her ;  but  the  next,  "  coward  and  boaster,"  as  she  heard 
the  words  from  P.anty's  lips,  came  borne  to  her  ear,  nerving 
her  heart  with  new  courage  and  her  childish  arms  with  new 

strength. 

"  Am  I  a  coward  and  boaster,  as  he  said  ?  "  she  mentally 
exclaimed,  while  her  eye  lit  fiercely  up.  *'  Yes,  I  am,  if  I 
scream  and  faint;  so  I  won't  do  either.  It  wasn't  for 
nothing  I  learned  to  shoot  and  carry  pistols  about,  and 
Ranty  won't  call  me  a  coward  again,  if  I  die  for  it!  " 

All  these  thoughts  had  passed  through  her  mind  in  half 
an  instant,  and  now  the  dauntless  little  amazon  sat  erect  on 
her  horse,  and  one  little  brown  hand  dropped  to  the  pistol 
she  carried  in  her  belt. 

The  black,  meanwhile,  had  held  her  rearing  steed  firmly 
by  the  bridle-rein. 

■*  ..  -r-i 4.   ^sx  _.:*!,  ..^..  I  »»    B>^\A  4-K'»  rjP"^'^    ornifflw.        "  I'll 

"  V^OIUC,   get   UJi    WllH  J-w-u  :  Sa-.U    i!!-.-   ''^£,- --;  i> *-  


a»«- 


:ai  wn 


:i|s| 


1  I 


162  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

look  after  you  for  a  few  days,  Miss  Pet.  Come  ;  I've  got  a 
nlace  all  ready  for  you  in  here." 

^  Now,  Pet  was  too  young  and  guileless  to  fear  any  worse 
fate  than  robbery,  imprisonment,  or,  perhaps,  death ;  but  as 
the  negro  attempted  to  pass  one  arm  around  her  waist  and 
m  hefirom  her  saddle,  her  face  blanched  with  horror  and 
loathinff.  and  shrinking  back  she  shrieked : 

««Let  me  go-let  me%o,  I  tell  youl     I'll  kill  you  if  you 

''"  Orcoml'°ow,  missy-none  o'  this.  Little  kittens  spit 
and  snap%u;  we  ain't  afraid  of  'em.  You've  got  to  cornel 
so  vou  may  as  well  come  at  once.  .     j-„. 

"^Lift  her  off,  and  carry  her  'long.     No  use  a-standin 
foolin'  here  1  "  said  another  deep  guttural  voice. 

.<  Let  me  alone  1  I  tell  you  let  me  alone  1  U  murder 
you  if  you  don't  1  "  screamed  Pet,  passionately,  her  finger 

''''^^!?:^^^r!ni^s  yer  1 "  exclaimed  the  black, 
as  he  resigned  the  horse  to  his  companion. 

And,  going  over  to  Pet,  he  flung  his  arm  around  her  and 
attempted  to  lift  her  from  her  saddle. 

A  flash  of  lightning  at  that  instant  revealed  the  black 
shining  visage  plainly  to  Pet  as  his  face  was  upra:sed  to 

^^Her  teeth  were  clenched  hard,  her  pistol  was  raised,  one 
sw!^  short  prayer  for  help,  and  the   brave  little  amazon 

^' A  loud  cry,  that  arose  even  above  the  sharp  report,  burst 
from  the  l?s  of  him  who  held  the  horse,  as  he  let  go  the 
reins  and  sprung  toward  his  wounded  companion 

The   frightened  Arabian,   the   moment   he   felt    himself 
released,  bounded  madly  away,  and  in  five  minutes  Pet  was 

'The'c'ottfge'  on  the  Barrens  was  the  nearest  habitation  ; 
but  all  was  dirk  there,  and  the  family  had  evidently  retired 

'°  While  Pet  paused  to  deliberate  a  moment  whether  she 
woulS  rouse  them  up  or  ride  home  to  HeaU.  Rill  she  dianc^ 
to  turn  her  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  White  Squall-as  the 
, ,  : "  „  L^;.oi  Mnvpnfnl.  had  named  his  huge  white 
palace^Tpartedwood-and  perceived  a  long  line  of  red 


PLAYING  WITH  EDGED  TOOLS. 


163 


e  got  a 

(T  worse 
;  but  as 
list  and 
ror  and 

1  if  you 

;ens  spit 
3  cornel 

■standin' 

I  murder 
;r  finger 

le  black, 

her  and 

le  black, 
raised  to 

ised,  one 
I  amazon 

ort,  burst 
;t  go  the 

himself 
s  Pet  was 

abitation  ; 
tly  retired 

lether  she 
ic  chanced 
all — as  the 
uge  white 
ine  of  red 


light  streaming  from  one  of  the  windows  far  over  the  dry 
level  moor. 

''  Uncle  Harry's  up  yet  I  "  exclaimed  Pet.  "  I'll  go  there, 
and  stay  all  night.  Gee  up,  Starlight !  You  have  carried 
me  out  of  danger  once  to-night ;  just  take  me  to  •  Old  Har- 
ry's,' as  Deb  says,  and  then  you  rnay  put  your  head  under 
your  wing  and  go  to  sleep  as  fast  as  you  like." 

As  if  he  had  understood  her,  her  fleet  steed  bounded 
furiously  over  the  heath;  and  five  minutes  later.  Pet  was 
standing  knocking  away  with  the  butt-end  of  her  whip  on  the 
door,  loud  enough  to  waken  the  dead. 

The  terrific  thumping  brought  three  or  four  servants 
scampering  to  the  door ;  and  close  at  their  heels,  holding  a 
bedroom  candlestick  high  over  her  head,  came  the  "  grand 
seigneur "  of  the  household,  himself  looking  slightly  be- 
wildered at  this  attempt  to  board  him  by  force. 

"  Law  1  if  it  ain't  Miss  Pet  1  "  ejaculated  the  man  who  ad- 
mitted her.  "  Might  'a'  known  'twar  she  ;  nobody  else 
would  come  thumpin'  like  dat.     Fit  to  far  de  ruff  off  !  " 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Uncle  Harry  ;  it's  only  me  I  "  said  Pet, 
as  she  came  in  dispersing  the  darkeys  by  a  grand  flourish  of 
her  whip. 

"  Port  your  helm  !  "  exclaimed  the  admiral,  still  slightly 
bewildered,  as  the  held  the  candlestick  aloft  and  stared  at 
Pet  with  all  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  how  can  I  port  my  helm  out  here,  I  want  to  know  ?  " 
cried  Pet,  testily.  "  Look  at  these  niggers  gaping,  as  if  I 
had  two  heads  on  me,  and  you,  standing  staring  at  me,  with 
that  old  candlestick  over  your  head,  that's  got  no  candle  in 
it.     Here  I  go  along  with  you  !     Be  off  with  you  1  " 

And  again  Pet  flourished  her  whip  among  them,  in  a  way 
that  had  the  effect  of  speedily  sending  them  flying  to  the 
kitchen  regions,  while  she  gave  her  passive  uncle  a  push 
that  sent  him  into  the  parlor  from  which  he  had  just 
emerged. 

This  done,  Pet  followed  him,  shut  the  door  with  a  bang, 
flung  her  whip  across  the  room,  and  dropped,  with  a  long, 
deep  breath  of  relief  and  security,  into  an  arm-chair. 

The  admiral  sunk  into  another,  still  holding  the  candle- 
stick in  his  hand,  and  never  removing  his  eyes  from  her  face. 
Thus  they  sat  for  some  minutes,  she  gazing  on  the  floor,  he 


Twr 


:aiwn 


Hi 


,64  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

was  a  "  plentiful  scarcity      oi  i  ^^^^  ^^^^ 

hers,  a  great  P-P^^^^^^^^^.^.p^'^  he  w  ndows  were  shaded 

covered  by  a  ^^'^^  ^^^^^  "^'^re  «s  while  as  the  largest 
by  blue-pnper  ^  ^^s      he  wall^wer^  ^^^^^^  ^^^^^^^  ,,dadorr.ed 

possible  amount  of  whittwasn  cou  corvettes,  and 


possible  amount  OI  w"'^VV''^'V:Ur^  si  '>ooT>ers,  corvettes,  ai 

Over  the  mantel-p.ece  was  ^l;"8^i^P^een3ea,  blazing 

colored  and  ,>mk  ■"^,";"f-;"' ''"  ,^,, 'o„lhose  deck  could 
away  at  a  'er.^t.ed-lookn,  l.ttle  cmter  on        ^^^^^^^      ^^^^^^ 

^^-itilrt^fwit^f^  ■Sfe-f-'■'"•- 
hug.  cages,  ailed  with  «^^  PJf^^j w  -1^  e  the  model 

on  the  mantel-piece,  right  under  //.'  I^mtin  .  ^^ 

A  huge,  wide  fi-P^-^';;",  tn  ^g,^^^^^^^^^^^       one  corner 
the  evening,  a  bright  h re  ^^as  b  rm   g,  1^      ^^^^^  ^^^^^_ 

of  the  apartment,  and  close  beside  ^^^^^  ^'"  j^ 
f ul,  in  I 's  elbow-chair,  ^^dl  star-g  a^^h .  n -c^^^^  ^^^^^^^^ 

The  admiral  was  a  man  of  ^^^^y  °;,:^' ^,^^°^^^^  ^^^^  simple, 
.vith  a  rubicund  face,  a  pi ly  sailo  ^^^^  ^S^^^' ^^^art  w.um 
crood-naturcd  look,  naturally,  that  "^^^^^^^^y  easily 

Toward   him.      Very  rich,  very  f^XTalHhe  poor  in  the 
^.  taken  in,"  he  was  the  guardian  angel  o    a^l  tl  e  P  ^^^ 

neighborhood.     The  admiral  ^^^^^^"^^^^J^^"  settle  down 
only  quitted  the  service  a  few  yea  s  btfo  e    o 
ani  end  his  d  ^ys  m  ^the  pride  of  '-  hean,J^  ^^isly-punch, 
eye-blinding  ••Vvmteoquai.-^tY^.  noticeable 

children,  and    nautical  phrases,  were 


-Mii^tfc'-asws^* 


.-«#<« 


ley  are 
nd  the 

i,  there 

unlike 
)or  was 
shaded 

largest 
idorned 
:es,  and 
art  of  a 

i\  5,ira'vV 
blazing 
;k  could 
Iv  taller 
ide  and 
stranger 
lit  make 

e  or  six 
a  dozen 
;ie  model 
i  set,  her 
-for  none 
;ea,  stood 

i-armth  of 
ne  corner 
d  Haven- 
plethoric, 

a  simple, 
;art  warm 
ery  easily 
)Oor  in  the 
,  and  had 
ettle  down 
Lige,  white, 
sky-punch, 

noticeable 


PLAYING  WITH  EDGED  TOOLS.  165 

traits  in  the  old  man's  character.  His  niece,  Pet  Lawless, 
had  never  ceased  to  astonish  him,  from  the  first  moment  he 
saw  her,  and  now  he  sat  hopelessly  gazing  at  her,  and  trying 
to  make  out  what,  could  have  brought  her  there  at  that 
hour  of  the  night,  looking  so  pale  and  excited. 

Pet,  with  her  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  was  uneasily 
wondering  whether  she  had  killed  the  man  she  had  shot  at, 
and  shuddering  to  think  what  a  dreadful  thing  it  was  to  shed 
blood,  even  in  self-tlefense. 

"Oh,  I  hope— I  do  hope  I  haven't  killed  him!  she  ex- 
claimed at  last,  involuntarily,  aloud.  ,     ,    •    , 

"  Killed  who  ?     Firefly  ?  "  inquired  the  astounded  admiral. 

"Uncle    Harry,"    said   Pet,  looking  abruptly  up,   "I've 

gone  and  killed  a  man  1"  u  1      j 

This  startling  announcement  so  completely  overwhelmed 
the  worthy  admiral,  that  he  could  only  give  vent  to  his  feel- 
ings by  a  stifled  "  Stand  from  under  1  " 

"Yes,  I  just  have;  and  I  expect  they'll  hang  me  for  it, 
now.  Ranty  said  I  was  to  be  hung,  but  who  would  think  he 
could  really  tell  fortunes?"  ,     ,       ,• 

"  Killed  a  man  !  St.  Judas  Iscariot  I  "  ejaculated  the  dis- 
mayed admiral.     "  When,  Flibbertigibbet  ?  " 

"  To-night ;  not  fifteen  minutes  ago.  I  expect  he  s  as 
dead  as  a  herring  by  this  time  1  "  said  Pet,  planting  her 
elbows  on  her  knees,'  dropping  her  chin  in  her  hands,  and 
gazing  moodily  into  the  fire. 

Admiral  Havenful  glanced  appealingly  at  the  candlestick  ; 
but  as  that  offered  no  clue  to  the  mystery,  he  took  off  his 
hat,  scratched  his  head  (or,  rather,  his  wig;  for  he  wore 
one),  and  then  clapped   it  on   again,  and  turned  briskly  to 

his  niece. 

"  Now,  litde  hurricane  t  just  shake  out  another  reef  or  so 
—will  you  ?     I'm  out  of  my  latitude  altogether." 

"  Well,  I  guess  you'd  have  been  more  out  of  it,  if  you  had 
been  caught  as  1  was  to-night,"  said  Pet,  with  a  sort  of 
<doomy  stoicism.  "  I  was  coming  through  the  woods,  you 
know,  between  Dismal  Hollow  and  the  Barrens,  when,  all  of 
a  sudden,  two  great,  big  black  niggers  jumped  from  behind 
the  trees,  and  caught  hold  of  my  horse." 

With  something  like  a  snortof  terror  and  dismay,  the  ad- 


i  J  iWU.        mvo 


j66  the  gypsy  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

„  tn  his  feet    and  brandished  the  candlestick 
tmral   sprung  to  his  ^^^  '  J^^^  j    ,  f„,  ^.^,^,  ,,.,,  to  come. 

fiercely  over  ;^^  f ^';^^;^  V^'^^And  wh?t  did  you  do,  whirligig?  " 

;;  ^,f  tlid  lll^n^  let^o,  and  they  Wouldn't ;  and  then 

I  took  a^pistol,  and  shot  one  of  them  1     exclam.ed  Pet,  .ith 

^*'^ilfo?di ! '•  shouted  the  admiral,  waving  the  candlestick 

'''^:.Ti^l^:tXL^ ,  •:  .-area  .he  adn,.a,^as  he 
sprung  forward  a,Hi  catching  ^J^^'^^k^l^  Z^.^l 
t::^:^^^  "B>.'sa-n'lOopher  Co,  Jnbus  >  you 
"'/vVdrtt'n'rnicc  to  kill  a  man,  or  even  a  nigger  1 

'  r^xlV;  he "ouldTtiough  I  don't  see  where  would  be 

admiral,  puffing  up  and  down  the  room,  with  his  hands  stuck 
in  his  pockets,  like  a  stranded  porpoise 

"no      the   girl   doesn't  want    to  get  killed,     said   Pet, 

;rvtrof;e'^T:s^nf^Terii^^^^^^ 

n  him  bv  his  bleeding.     There's  a  reward  offered,  too 
for  whoever  takes  them  up;  and  who  knows  bu.  .  ...ay 
get  it?"  • 


> " 


may 


PLAYING  WITH  EDGED  TOOLS.  167 

«•  Set  fire  to  the  reward  1  That's  a  good  notion,  though, 
about  going  in  search  of  them  when  they're  wounded,  Pet. 
Oh  you're  a  jewel,  FHbbertigibbet,  and  no  mistake  about 
itl'  There  ought  to  be  a  song  made  about  you  111  go, 
tooi  and  there's  no  lime  to  lose.  Pipe  all  hands,  i-irehy, 
while  I  go  and  look  for  my  boots." 

"  Now,  why  couldn't  he  say  '  Call  the  servants,   as  well  as 
'  Pipe  all  hands  '  ?  which  hasn't  a  sensible  sound  at  all,    said 
Pet,  as  she  arose  to  obey.     "  Here,  you  I  Jake,  lorn,  Hob  ! 
she  added,  opening  the  door,  and  shouting  at  the  top  of  her 
lungs,  "  come  here  as  fast  as  you  can.     There  s  murder  in 

the  camp  I  "  ,    .    ,   ,  -.t  • 

"  Tumble  up  !  "  roared  the  admiral,  from  within.  ^ 

"  Tumble  up  1  "  repeated  Pet,  imitating  the  old  sailor  s 
uruff  roar  as  well  as  she  could.     "  Uncle  says  so." 

lake,  and  Tom,  and  Bob,  most  probably  thinking  from 
the  uproar,  the  house  was  on  fire,  "  tumbled  up  "  accordingly, 
precipitating  themselves  over  one  another,  in  their  eagerness 
to  be  first  on  the  field  of  battle. 

<'  Clear  out,  and  saddle  four  horses,  and  arm  yourselves 
with  boarding-pikes  and  cutlasses!"  commanded  the  ad- 
miral, fastening  a  rusty  sword  to  his  side,  and  sticking  a 
couple  of  pistols  in  his  belt.  "  And  then  moun  ,  and  ride 
round  to  the  front  door,  and  stand  by  for  further  orders. 
Oh,  the  blamed  black  villain  1  He  deserves  to  walk  the 
plank,  if  ever  any  one  did  1 "  .  .•  j 

All  this  time,  the  admiral  had  been  going  panting  and 
puffing  round,  like  a  whale,  arming  himself  with  every  con- 
ceivable weapon  he  could  lay  hands  on,  and  vociferating, 
alternately,  to   himself,  to   "  heave  to  1  "  and  "  stand  from 

""pet  had  run  out,  and  sprung  upon  Starlight,  while  the 
three  alarmed  servants  rode  behind  her.  And  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  admiral  made  his  appearance,  and  got  astride  a 
solemn,  misanthropic-looking  old  roan,  with  many  grimaces 
and  contortions ;  for  the  admiral  did  not  believe  in  nding 
himself,  and  would  sooner  have  faced  a  tornado,  any  day, 
on  the  broad  Atlantic,  than  ride  three  yards  on  horsebacK. 
The  ni-ht  was  still  intensely  dark,  but  perfectly  calm,  and 
hv  the  command  of  PetroniUa,  the  men  had  provided  dark 
lanterns.     All  were  now  ready;  but  the  admuai,  iike  most 


nKJft  ^IV-iU         =aivo 


i!f 


SI. 


•J 


i68  THE  GYPSY  QUKKN'S  VOW. 

^enerMs  leading  his  troops  to  battle,  considend  it  his  duty 
generals  itaun  ^  i  •      j^pgeches  on  the  eve  of  a 

h.ulf  ^rrr'Seve    n«.  effiTado'us,  and,  acting  ,.„  .his 
CO     to  on,  Admiral  Hav.nful's  wa.s  brid,  pul,;  and  <o  U,e 

Vn.  1  ■/  C  that'?  no  matter.  The  enemy's  before  ,.u  , 
Ave  'em'a  raking  broadside  first,  and  then  board  'em,  sword 
g.vc  em  a  ra»«"K  j^  ^^,,.  ^p^n  you   IKA^    -or 

'"  ^M  K  V  ?h.  V   arc  slecnmg  about  this  time  !  Clap  on 

would  be  only  they   are  sieti)mi,  .  -.i^.^nhl     Gee  up, 

all    sail;  and  scud  before  the  wind  1     Hoorah  1  up, 

""'rt'eliect  of  tms  spirited  add.ess  could  not  be  seen  in  the 
dark  ind  resolved  at  all  hazards  to  practice  what  he 
\'^^  thridmiral  gave  b^th  heels  a  simultaneous  dig 
preached,  the  '^'^  ^^'j ^^^^  j^^kh^g  ,teed,  which  had  the 
etct  o1  se  t  ng'th  t  o'muZly-naniil  animal  off  at  a  shu- 

groan  after'groan  «as  jerked  from  h.s  Jolted  boson    >y  tl.e 

""f."U:l;:jhl-'nkl^an--old_hulk-^n-a-swell  1  •• 

canre   cbur'ned.  word  by  word   like   ^•■'\^;j!Z,Z 

,ips  of  the   -'"•■-^:;.^,7,l';V-<'^^'— "  ''^'<'" 
j'jl be — capsized — cJiu  ciiy — uy 

^''"^^'"  ,  ^i«  >  "  pxrhimed  Pet,  11.  i)atiently, 

t"t„etUct.-^  :^;%-.n^rneTw'i-..e.y  old  nag  of  yours 
"•'^'rl.:!:iU'edT<:^dea.h_a..eady_Pet        Eve^- 

a— =t<.p — • -  ,- g — ^ — particular  — 

the— ocean— and— ask— it--ot--uie     as—*     v 

Uvorl  "  grunted  the  jolted  admiral. 


»i««fl*l««fra 


PLAYING  WITH  EDGED  TOOL   .  169 

n.ounted  before  ^       '"'f  J;^';^^f*,'J''„,i,utes  brought   her   to 
And  off  went     •        A  very  lew  ^^^^ 

the   cottage.     Ahgnt.ng  from  ^^^/J^^  ^^'^f;/^   KVir.i^ie. 

voice  demanded  : 

::  U's  mefLuc'i-Pe.  Lawless.     Come  down  .nd  open  -he 

o„sarcv,mc,sed  hour  ol    dc  n  fe  ^^^  _^  ,he  window 

-r^oi^i  ^e,^^^^^^^^^^^^      rtn:;!S  dt 

'"'now'" 'en  1"  Is    Ray   in  bed?"   abruptly   demanded 
nrScy,  who  e.pec.ed  «„^;s  -rLt!ir"is' ind: 

ro^rrs^^oTsrdotn  H"  tS'"  *--•' '-'-" 

scandalized  and  indignant.  „  ^^.j 

u  Well— don't  you  hear  me  ?     Is  Kay  in  oea  f 

our  impatient  Nimrud,  in  a  hi^he^key.  ^^^^^^^ 

;/'rnd';:rgar!\tat  h  :  co^sSe  tas  m^re  light  than 
stiffly,  and  t^'^g^^^'"'- ';  '  ..  Y^r  is  mighty  fine,  to  come  at 
dignified,  "  you  may  t  ink  dis  y^''^^^  J    ,,^^Vs'r's  in  bed, 

de^dead  hours   ob  ^^,^1^ .^^  "'^j  Vr,c^^ 
butit'ssomefinlwouldntdo  efl      b^^^^^^^  ^        ^.J     ^^^ 

rs  allers  tooken  care  not  to  be  cotched  ^^^^.i^es, 

young  ladies,  now-a-days,  as  have   no   speci 

^^V:\^;^^:ut;;ful  cm  thing  l"  exclaimed  P^angTil>-. 

:i:ip l;^^;  ur ^—    r^sru^^^ '"' 

wmp  c^  c^  y  ^j^^        I  ^jo  to  you. 

me,  or  i  ii— leavC  j^}-  -j  o  - 


— »'    "W" 


I'tjfl""?" 


:aivo 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


170 

The  noise  of  voices  in  violent  allercati.n   now  brought 
Erminic  to  the  scene  of  action,  looking  like  an  angel  in  her 

flowinu  snowy  night-dress,  ,     ,  •      1 

"\Av    Pct^vhat  is  the  matter  ?"  she  asked  m  a  arm. 

-Nothing,  only  1   want   Ray.     Is  he  in  bed?     H  he  is. 

''''-lie 'is  llot  home.  He  and  Ranty  went  away  somewhere, 
after  tea.  and  haven't  come  back.  Wc  thought  they  had 
gone  to  Heath  Hill.  Oh,  Pet  !  has  anything  happened  to 
them?"  said  Krminie.  tlaspin-  her  hands. 

-  Not    is  1  know  of.     Like  as  not  they're  at   Heath  1 1  lU. 
I  hav.'.,  I  been  there,  myself,  since  early  this  mornmg.     Now, 
don't  get  frightene.l    and   be  a  goose   Minme  1     i  vvan^^'^ 
Rayto^u-lpme   in  a  splendid   piece  of-o      mischief;  bu 
Ts   he's  not  in.  it's   no   matter.     Good-night,  and   pleasant 

dreams.      I'm  off."  .        ,         1    ,  •    1 

And  olT   she  was,  like  a  shot,  slamming  the   door  behind 

her   after  her  usual  fashion,  and  just  succeeded  in  spr.ng- 

ing'into  her   saddle  as   the  slow  cavalcade  came  tramping 

"^Slowlv  as  they  rode,  a  short  time  brought  them   now  to 
the  forest-road.     Just  as  they  entered  it.  a  figure  came  rush- 

^"^.XlplheipT  whoever  you  are,  or  he'll  bleed  to  death  !" 
"  Why,  It's  Ranty  1  "  exclaimed  Pet,  in  amazement,  as  she 

recognized  the  voice.  ,  .    , 

Aithe  same  moment,  one  of  the  men,  'if^mg  his  lantern, 

let  its  rays  stream  upon  the   new-comer,  and  all  started  to 

behold  a  black,  shinuig,  ebony  face.     ^  .       ,.  .    , 

"it's  a  nigger  1  "  howled  the  admiral.     "  Blow  him  out  of 

'''.utnol'a  nigger  1  "  shouted  the  voice  of  Ranty.  "If  this 
soot  was  off,  I'd  be  as  white  as  you,  if  not  cons.devab  y 
whiter.     Come  along ;  he'll  die  soon,  if  he's  not  dead  al- 

'^^'!'  Who'Tdie^?  ""vVho  are  you  talking  about  ?  Oh,  R.inty  ! 
who  is  it  ?  "  exclaimed  Pet,  growing  faint  and  sick  with  sud- 

'^"Xy?R;'Germaine,  to  be  sure.      You'll  have  some. 

,  ■'urn-T  ~f   »"♦  T  -^vvlPQ.;   after  troiner  and  shooting  Kay 

GZl:;^t<;^VyoZ'now7^  Y  always  k.cw  your  luggmg 


P' 

g' 
lii 

w 

d 

h 
1( 
ii 

s 
3 
( 


.^^I»#jgr^ 


..♦«u«.-* 


PLAYING  WITH  EDGED  TOOLS. 


171 


.  *  1      «nnrl   like  a  fcmalc  Blackbeard,  would  come  to  no 

Su  d  howl  of  minglea  grief  ""f  nd.gnanon 

For  one  dreadful  moment  Pet  reeled  ''"^J^'^l'l      ^^^ 
,  1J»^       Then    w  th    a   long,  wild,   passionaic   •-•;', 

H'Ved  t^-n  her  hu,re,  and  spel  like  .n  arrow  from  a  bow 
into  the  woods.  ,    .      (^,(  j  flashes  of 

She  had  not  far  to  go.     By  °"^  °;,  7jd,,u,  she  saw 

sheet-lightning  <^»' "^.'t^  Iv  1^™"  o"'«»  °"  '"^  '•'V 
a  .lark,  s  ender  >'°>;'^\';™„',>^"„^,  ,he  was  kneeling  beside 
drenched  grass  1  he  •«•''''"''"•  ^  clasping  his  cold, 
him,  holding  h.^  head  on  her  breast,  and  c^p^^^g^^  ^^^ 

"'i^rRaVl  T'nej:;ra"t  U  >'  I  never  -«.r  thought  .t 

doom's  day,  it  won  t  bring  him  to.     ^  ^    j^      ff  ^s 

nrV'^''X%^or(annwrstrd"o  bel,eve),to 

'"^.•^rRam;.  1  do';r-;ink  ho  «>.  aie^  -  exc,ai^.ed  P^^^^ 

which  "^"-^^^'^  °," ';",  t°^^^^^  cottage,  the  best  thing  you  can 
you've  sent  the  ^"^^^  ^^  ^^^^  ^^^j^e  sheriff  and  save  him 
do  is  to  go  and  give  yoursdt    Pj^^'^  3^  off,  now, 

the  trouble  of  coming  to  ^^^^  '  ^^^^^f  f  J  ^he  mischief  y.u 
and  ride  fast,  if  y^^^^^J"'' , '7'^  on  \'^"  ^""^  ''  '''"'" 

duu  s^^  ,  ^^^,  p^y  home. 

make  a  nuer  tu  c^ir)  p-    -  ^— .- 


^     iiva 


172  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

«  Go  for  the  doctor,  Pet,"  whispered  the  admiral.  *' I've 
got  out  of  my  reckoning  again,  somehow.      Don't  see  where 

the  wind  sits,  for  my  part."  ,  1,  j    1    ,^a 

Without  a  word.  Pet  leaped  mto  her  saddle  and  darted 
off,  according  to  Ranty's  directions,  as  if  "  Satan  was  after 
her  "  And  then,  superintended  by  Ranty,  a  rude  litter  was 
made  and  the  cold,  rigid  form  of  Ray  placed  upon  it  1  he 
negroes  carefully  raised  it  on  their  shoulders,  and  headed 
by  Ranty  and  the  admiral,  the  melancholy  cavalcade  set  out 

for  the  cottage.  ,,,.,,•       n   1  jm 

"  How   in  the  name  of  Beelzebub,  did  this  all  happen  ? 
was  the  worthy  admiral's  first  question,  as  he    rode   along 
beside  his  afflicted  nephew. 

'<  It's  my  opinion   Beelzebub,  or  some  other   of    them  old 
fellows,  has  had  a  hand  in  it,  all  through,"  said  Ranty.  with 
another  suppressed  howl  of  grief.     '•  The  way  of  it  you  see, 
Uncle  Harry,  was  this  :     Pet  would  go  to  Dismal  Hollow 
this  mornin-  in   spite  of  all  we  could  say  or  do.     We  told 
her  there  were  savage  negroes  in  the  woods  who  would  send 
her  to  kingdom  come  as  fast  as  they  would  look  at  her  ;  but 
it  was  only  a  heaving  away  of  breath  and  cl(;quence  to  talk 
to  her      Go  she  would  and  go  she  did.     Well,  I  persuaded 
Ray  to  play  a  nractical  joke  on   her  by  blacking  our  faces 
and  waylaying  her  on  her  road  home,  to  see  whether  or  not 
she  was  as  courageous  as  she  pretended  to  be,     Ray  con- 
sented, and  we  stopped  her  here,  and  by  George  !  befx)re 
we  knew  what  we  were  about  she  fired   at  Ray,  and  then 
dashed  off  before  you  could   say  '  Jack   Robinson.      Ray 
fell  li'ce  a  stone,  and  I,  with  a  yell  like  an  Indian  war-whoop, 
rushed  up  to  him,  and  raised  him  up,  and  asked  him  if  he 
w  IS  killed.     He  said  '  no  '  but  that  he  thought  he  was  pretty 
badly  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  and  1  could  feel  his  coat 
all  wet  with  blood.     If  I  had    been  a  grown-up  man    the 
way  I  would  have  sworn  at  Pet,  just  then,  would  have  been 
a  caution ;  but  as  I  wasn't,  I  contented  myself  with  wishing 
I  had  a  hold  of  her  for  about  five   minutes— that  was  all ! 
A  little  later,  Ray  went  and  fainted  as  dead  as  a  mackerel, 
and  there  we  were,  left  like   the  two  '  Babes   in  the  Wood, 
and  I  expect,   like  those    unfortunate    infants,   the    robins 

micht  have  made  us  a  grave,  li  yuu  h.t^n  l  ^on,.    j,   -i- 

the  nick  of  time  to  my  relief.     I  didn't  like  to  leave  poor 


PLAYING  WITH  EDGED  TOOLS.  I73 

'"'i^^;e're1"'SerLty>oking  invo.untatri.y  in  the  d. 

'''aToUl  Moto  Ketura  finds  out  Firefly  has  shot  her  boy, 
there'llte  mutiny  amon^  the  crew ."^  said  the  adm.ral,  in  a 

■">:nv>tr:iUr4^tnV''LirRanty;..su^ 
heriJeandJtJrc  flighting  a  duel  in  a  peaceable,  fr.endiy 

-^i^!,,"ii:n\;°i::;rs.i'rfr';ruth.  every  ..^ 
l;-r-Se^  ir  ^Sd'Ta\°tvTr:Sr  "ta;t 

was  shot  accidentally ' 

"  On  purpose,"  interrupted  Ranty.  „ 

.'  Or  L'  he  was  shot  by  mistake--so  he  was,  you  know. 
.  All  right  1  I'll  fix  it  up ;  trust  me    to  get  up  a  work  ^f 

fiction  founded  on  fact,  at  a  moment's  notice  1     Here  v^e 

"^i^nlf  ktcS,  a^d'^^lin  the  window  up  above  was 
r.itd  .ndthe  simesabfe  head,  a  second  time  aroused 
f  ?omt;  rmbers,  was  protruded,  and  in  sharp,  irritated  tones 

demanded: 

"  Who's  dar  now,  I'd  like  ter  know  ? 

-  A  mighty  polite  beginning,"  muttered  Ranty-then  rais 
ing  his  voice-"  it's  me.  Lucy-Ranty  Lawless 

-  Ugh  1  might  have  known  it  was  a  Lawless  I  Nev  er  seed 
Mich  a  rampageous  set-comin'  and  rousin'  people  out  der 
bed  dis  hoSe  night.  Fust  de sister,  den  debrudder  ;  fust 
de  'un  den  de  uddlr,"  scolded  Lucy,  quite  unconscious  she 
was "'aX  poetry ;  ''  what  in  de  name  of  Marster  does  yer 

" -ro'get  in,  you  sooty  goblin  I  "  fof^  ^^L't  ufilf ' 
in  a  ragl  "Come  down  and  open  the  door,  and  let  us  in  , 
don't  stand  there  asking  questions."  -    •    i    :«  - 

"Belay  yo"^   jawing  tackle  1 "  roared  the  aamiral,  m  a 
voice  like  distant  thunder. 


saiva 


174  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

"  Deed,  I  won't  den  1  Does  yer  tink  I's  no  sort  o'  'steem 
for  myself  to  go  lettin'  in  men  dis  hour  de  night  ?  I  hasn't 
lived  forty  odd  years  to  comet  o  dis  in  my  old  ages  o'  life." 
And  down  the  window  went  with  a  bang. 

Before  Ranty  could  burst  out  with  a  speech  more  vigorous 
than  proper,  the  door  was  softly  opened,  and  Erminie,  like  a 
stray  seraph  in  her  white  floating  dress,  stood  before  them, 
with  a  face  pale  with  undefined  apprehension,  and  exclaim- 
ing, with  clasped  hands :  •     •   i     i 

"  Oh,  Ranty,  something  has  happened  1  what  is  it  ?  I 
could  not  go  asleep  after  Pet  left,  and  I  felt  sure  something 
was  going  to  happen.     Where's  Ray  ?  " 

"Hush,  Erminie;  don't  be  frightened.  Go  in  and  get  a 
light,  and  don't  wake  your  grandmother— go." 

"  But  tell  me  first  what  has  happened.  I  won't  scream. 
I'll  be  very  good,"  pleaded  Erminie,  her  face  growing  whiter 

and  whiter.  ,  ,r.    , 

"  Well,  then— Ray's  got  hurt  pretty  badly,  and  Pet  s  gone 
for  the  doctor.  Now  don't  go  crying,  or  making  a  time, 
but  light  a  candle,  and  kindle  a  fire,  and  get  some  linen 
bandages  and  things ;  they're  always  wanted  when  wounds 
are  dressed.  That's  a  good  girl— worth  your  weight  in  gold 
not  to  speak  of  diamonds.     Hurry  up!  " 

Pale  and  trembling,  but  soon  wonderfully  quiet,  Ermi- 
nie obeyed,  but  started  back  with  a  faint  cry  of  terror,  when 
the  light  fell  on  the  black  faces  of  the  boys. 

"  Hush,  Erminie  I  give  me  some  soap  and  water  'till  I 
wash  all  this  black  off  before  the  doctor  comes,"  said  Ranty. 
"  I  dare  say,  I  ain't  very  pretty  to  look  at  just  now  ;  but 
never  mind  ;  a  good  scrubbing  will  set  it  all  right.  And  now 
get  some  more,  and  wash  the  black  off  Ray's  face,  too ;  I 
fancy  you'll  find  him  white  enough  underneath  by  this  time." 

Still  trembling,  and  with  a  face  perfectly  colorless,  Ermi- 
nie obeyed  ;  and  while  Ranty  was  giving  his  frontispiece  a 
vigorous  scrubbing,  Erminie  was  more  gently  bathing  that 
of  Ray.  When  the  dusky  paint  was  off,  the  deadly  pallor 
of  his  face  seemed  in  such  striking  contrast,  that  she  barely 
repressed  a  cry  of  passionate  grief.  Cold,  and  still,  and 
white  he  lay,  like  one  already  dead.  Then  Ranty,  with  a 
face  shinin"-  from  the  combined  influences  of  sincere  grief, 
and  a  seve're  application  of  soap  and  water,  went  to   the 


c 
h 
r 
t 


i-«miw-»*sw« 


PLAYING  WITH  EDGED  TOOLS.  i75 

door  to  see,  like  Sister  Annie  in  "  Bluebeard,"  if  there  was 
^anybody  doming/'  Very  soon  he  returned  with  the  wel- 
come intelligence^hat  he  heard  the  tramp  of  approaching 
horses-  and  the  r.xt  moment  Pet  burst  wildly  into  the 
room  followed  by  a  grave,  old,  baldheaded  gentleman- 
the  nhvsici.-n  of  Tudestown.  ,  t.  ^ 

..Oh    doctor,  will  he  die?"  passionately    exclaimed  Pet, 
looking  up,  with  a  face  as  white  as  Raymond  s  own. 

iSpe^i^ot ;  can't  tell    just  yet,"    said  the  doctor,  as  he 
proceed^ed    to   rip    up   Ray's    coat-sleeve,  and    remove    the 

"l^fto^undwas   in  the  shoulder;  and  the   doctor,   with 
very  little  difficulty,  extracted  the  bullet,  dressed  the  wound 
and   proceeded   to    administer    restoratives.     1  hen  seeing 
Pet'sThite,  terrified    face,  and  with  black    eyes  looking  a 
him  so  bes;echingly,  he  chucked  her  good-naturedly  under 

''^.  Dt't'be  ataid,  little  blackbird  1  Master  Ray's  good  as 
half-a-dozen  dead  people  yet.  All  you  have  go^o  do  is,  to 
nurse  him  carefully  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  you  U  see 
S  alive  and  kicking  as  briskly  as  ever   by  the  end  of  that 

^'"^'%h  I'm  so  glad,"  said  Pet,  drawing  a  long,  deep  breath 
and  droppTng^^to  a  chair,  she  covered   her  face  with  her 

^"^The  doctor  now  gave  a  few  directions  to  Erminie.  and 
then  took  his  leave.     'Fhe  admiral  followed  him  to  the  door, 

"':!  DoctCwill  you  just  stand  of!  and  on  around  here  tiU 
the  bd?n  there  g'ets  seaworthy  again?  I'll  stand  the  dam- 
ajres  and  don't  you  say  anything  about  it.  ,       ,    •    , 

^The  doctor   nodded'  and  rode  off;  and  then  the  admiral 
seeing  he  could  be  of  no  use  in    the  cottage,  mounted,  with 
mn/ groans    and  g-nts.  Ringbone,  and  wended  h,s^w^y, 
followed   by   his  three   valorous  henchme.i,  to  the   White 

^"^''Ranty  go  home,"  said  Pet ;  "  we  don't  want  you.     You 
can  fen7apa!if  he  ^sks  you,  how  it  all  happened  and  say 
ain't  coming  home  until  to-morrow.     As  I  ve  shot  Ray,  1 
going  to  stay  here  and  nurse  him  ;  so  be  on  i 


„,0t» 


"ffrt 


irriffil  L..,jatMa.. 


1/6 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

FIREFLY   GOES    TO    SCHOOL. 

"  Puck  found  it  handier  to  commence 
With  a  certain  share  of  impudence  ; 
Which  passes  one  off  as  learned  and  clever, 
Beyond  all  other  degrees  whatever. 

—Song  of  Old  Puck. 

Judge  Lawless  was  in  a  rage  !  If  you  have  ever  seen  an 
angry  lion,  an  enraged  bea'-,  or  a  young  lady  with  her 
mantle  pinned  awry,"  you  may  conceive  in  some  measure 
the  state  of  mind  in  which  that  gentlemen  trod  up  and  down 
his  library  floor,  while  he  listened  to  Ranty's  account  of 
Pet's  exploit  of  the  previous  night.  ,  ,     ^  u 

Tudge  Lawless  was  a  man  of  forty  or  so,  and  had  been  a 
widower  for  five  years.  His  face  was  not  particularly  pre- 
possessing though  extremely  handsome;  h.s  haughty,  super- 
cilious  expression  ;  his  cold  and  somewhat  sinister  eyes  and 
slightly  sensual  mouth,  were,  on  the  whole,  rather  repelling. 
h!  prided  himself,  as  a  general  thing,  on  his  gentlemanly 
urbanity;  but  on  the  present  occasion  he  quite  forgot  all  his 
customary  politeness,  and  paced  up  and  down  m  a  towering 

^^Hb"son  and  heir,  Master  Ranty,  had  ensconced  himself  in 
a  velvet-cushioned  easy-chair  ;  and  with  his  feet  on  a  stool, 
and  both  hands  stuck  in  his  coat-pockets,  took  things  very 

coolly  indeed.  ,  ,         •  u  * 

"  To  think  that  my  daughter  should  act  in  such  an  out- 
rageous manner!"  exclaimed  the  judge,  passionately; 
"  making  herself  a  town's  talk,  with  her  mad  actions.  What 
other  young  lady  in  her  station  of  life  would  associate  famil- 
iarly with  those  people  at  Dismal  Hollow,  who  are  a  low  set 
as  far  as  I  understand  ;  or  ride  through  those  infested  woods 
after  night  ?  I  shall  put  an  immediate  stop  to  it,  if  1  have 
to  lock  her  up  in  the  attic  on  bread  and  water.  I  have  a 
good  mind  to  keep  her  on  bread  and  water  for  a  month  or  so 
and  see  if  that  will  not  cool  the  fever  in  her   bioou  i     And 


FIREFLY  GOES  TO  SCHOOL.  i77 

you,  sir,"  he  added,  stopping  in  his  excited  walk,  and  turn- 
W  furiously  upon  Ranty,  "deserve  a  sound  thrashing  for 
play  ng  such  a  trick  upon  your  sister.     It  would  have  served 
n  young  puppy  Germaine  right  if  she  had  put  an  end  to 
h  "worthless  Hfe^     1  never  liked  that  boy,  and   I   command 
you  instantly  to  cease  your  intimacy  with  hnn.     If  your  uncle 
chooses  to  make  a  fool  of  himself,  adoptmg  every  beggar  s 
brat  for  ^  protect,  thafs  no  reason  why  I  should  follow  his 
lead      NoC,  sir,  let  me  hear  no  more  of  this.     As  the  son  of 
Judge  Lawless,  you   should  look  for  better  companionship 
than  the  grandson  of  an  old  gipsy."  •  ,   t,     ^ 

"  I  don't  know  where  I'd  find  one.  then,"  said  Ranty, 
sturdily  "There  isn't  a  boy  from  Maine  to  Louisiana  a 
better  fellow  than  Ray  Germaine.  He  can  beat  me  at  every- 
thing he  lays  his  hands  to,  from  mathematics  down  to  PuHing 
a  stroke-oar ;  and  there  wasn't  another  boy  at  school  he 
couldn't  knock  into  a  cocked  hat." 

And  with  this  spirited  declaration.  Master  Ranty  thrust 
his  hands  deeper  into  his  pockets,  and  planted  his  feet  more 

firmly  than  ever  on  the  stool.  .,      ,  j   u-„  f^.u^r 

"  How  often  must  I  tell  you,  sir,"  vociferated  his  father, 
in  a  voice  of  thunder,  "to  drop  this  vulgar  habit  you  have 
got  of  talking  slang?     I  presume  your  accomplished  friend 
Germaine,  has  taught  you  that,  as  well  as  your  manifold  other 
acquirements,"  he  added,  with  a  sneer.  ,    ,  /j 

"No,  he  didn't,"  said  Ranty,  stoutly;  ''and  he  could 
knock  them  into  a  cocked  hat,  if  not  further,  too  I  Ray 
Germaine's  a  tiptop  fellow,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  d 
be  a  President  some  day.     It  will  be  the  country's  loss  if  he 

"'"'Wence!  str  l' '  thundered  the  judge.     "  How  dare  you 
have  the  brazen  efTrontery  to  speak  in  this  manner  to  me 
You  have  improved  under  your  sister's  tuition  rapidly,  since 
vou  came  home  1     Go    .mediately  to  old  Barrens  Cottage 
Ind  bring  Petronilla  here.     I  shall  see  that  she  does  not  go 
there  aeain  in  a  hurry."  .  , 

Ranty  rose,  with  anything  but  a  sweet  expression  and 
went  out,  shaking  his  fist  grimly  at  the  door,  I  am  sorry  to 
sav.  once  it  was  safely  shut  between  them. 

On  reaching  the  coUage,  he  found  Ray  flushed  and  feverish 
^.uu  p..^  <>^A  Frminip  <iittiner  OH  either  side  of  mm. 


T)«»- 


'WTTWI 


aivo 


I-: 


178  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

"Pet,   go  home;  father   says  so,"  was  his   first  brusque 

"  I  won't  then— not  a  step  1  "  said  the  obstinate  Pet. 

"  He'll  be  after  you  with  a  horsewhip  mighty  sudden,  if 
you  don't,"  said  Ranty.  "  I  wish  you  could  see  how  he's 
been  blazing  away  all  the  morning.  I  reckon  he's  stamping 
up  and  down  the  library  yet,  nursing  his  wrath  to  keep  it 
warm  till  lit  gets  hold  of  you." 

"  Well,"  said  the  disrespectful  vixen,  "if  he  s  a  mind  to 
get  mad  for  nothing,  I  can't  help  it.     I  shan't  go." 

"  Oh,  Pet  I  you'd  better,"  said  Erminie,  anxiously.  "  He  11 
be  so  very  angry.  1  can  take  care  of  Ray,  you  know  ;  and 
your  father  will  scold  you  dreadfully." 

"  La  1  I  know  that  1  I'm  in  for  a  scolding,  anyway,  so  1 
may  as  well  earn  it.     Might  as  well  be  hung  for  a   sheep  as 

a  lamb,  you  know."  „  u    1      • 

"  Oh,  Pet  1  don't  stand  bothering  here  all  day,  broke  in 
Ranty,  impatiently.  "  I've  got  to  bring  you  home,  anyway, 
and  I  suppose  you  think  a  fellow  has  nothing  to  do  but  stay 
here  and  wait  'till  you're  ready.  Father  will  half-murder  you, 
if  you  don't  come  right  straight  along." 

"Yes;  go,  Pet— p'.ease  do,"  pleaded  Erminie.     "1  had 

rather  you  would."  ^  „       j 

"  Oh,  well,  if  I'm  to  be  turned  out  I  suppose  1  must,    said 

Pet,  taking  her  hat.     "  I'm  ready,  Ranty.     Good-by,  Minme  ; 

I'll  be  back  after  dinner."  .     . 

"I   don't  know  about  that,"  muttered  Ranty,  sprmgmg 

into  the  saddle.     "  People  ain't  got  out  of  attics  so  easily  as 

you  think."  ... 

A  rapid  gallop  of  half  an  hour  brought  them  to  Heath  Hill, 
a  gently-sloping  eminence,  on  which  stood  an  imposing 
mansion  of  gray  sandstone,  the  aristocratic  home  of  Judge 
Lawless,  the  one  great  potentate  of  Judestown  and  environs. 

The  judge,  from  the  window  of  the  library,  saw  his  son 
and  daughter  approach,  and  flinging  himself  into  the  loung- 
ing chair  Ranty  had  vacated,  he  rung  the  bell,  and  ordered 
the  servant  who  answered  his  summons  to  send  Miss  Petro- 
nilla  up-stairs  directly. 

'^  Now,  you'll  catch  it,  Pet,"  said  Ranty,  with  a  malicious 

chuckle.  ^1.     • 

"  Will  I  ?     Wait  'till  you  see,"  retorted  Pet,  as,  gathering 


if 


FIREFLY  GOES  TO  SCHOOL- 


179 


up  her  riding-habit  in  her  hand,  she  prepared  to  follow  the 

servant  up-stairs. 

With  his  face  contracted  into  an  awful  frown,  destined  to 
strike  terror  into  the  flinty  heart  of  his  self-willed  little  heiress, 
the  judge  sat,  awaiting  her  coming.  In  she  came,  her  hat 
cocked  jauntily  on  one  side  of  her  saucy  little  head ;  her 
round,  polished,  boyish  forehead  laughing  out  from  between 
clusters  of  short,  crispy,  jetty  curls ;  her  black  eyes  all 
ablaze  with  anticipated  defiance ;  her  rosy  mouth  puckered 
up  ready  to  vindicate  what  she  considered  her  legitimate 
riVhts  Not  the  least  daunted  was  Pet  by  her  father  s  look, 
as  swinging  her  riding-whip  in  one  hand,  she  stood  erect 
and  fearless  before  him.  ,      .    , 

"  Well,  Miss  Petronilla  Lawless,"  began  the  judge,  in  a 
measured,  sarcastic  tone  ;  "  no  doubt  you  are  very  proud  of 
last  night's  achievement.  You  think  you  have  done  some- 
thing excessively  clever  now — don't  you  ?  " 

"Yes  I  do,"  said  Pet;  "and  so  would  you  and  every- 
body  else— if  I  had  only  shot  a  real  nigger,  instead  of  Ray 
Germaine.     It  wasn't  my  fault.     I'd  just  as  lief  shoot  one  as 

t'other."  .        .      .,       »•   ^4. 

"  No  doubt.  The  race  of  Joan  D'Arc  is  not  quite  extinct, 
I  see.  How  will  you  like  to  have  your  name  bandied  from 
lip  to  lip  'till  it  becomes  a  common  by-word  in  every  low 
tavern  and  hovel  in  J  udestown?"  „     ,     ,      .         a 

"Well  I  shouldn't  mind.  I  like  to  be  talked  about;  and 
it  isn't  the  first  time  I  have  given  theiu  something  to  talk 

about,  either." 

"No;  but  it  shall  be  the  last,"  said  the  judge,  rising 
st-rn'v, '  "  I  command  you,  now,  to  go  no  more  to  that  cot- 
ta<re       'f  you  dare  to  disobey  me,  it  will  be  at  your  peril.     ^^ 

*^'  Why,  Where's  the   harm  of  going,   I   want  to  know  ? 
demanded  Pet,  it.dignantly. 

"  I  am  not  in  the  nabit  of  'giving  reasons  for  my  conduct, 
Miss  Lawless,"  sr'a  Ihc  judge,  severely  ;  "  but  in  this  instance 
I  will  say,  it  is  excce  h:^gly  unbecoming  in  a  young  lady  to 
nurse  a  youth  who  .s  a  stranger  to  her.  No  other  young 
ladv  would  think  for  a  moment  of  such  a  thmg. 

"Well  I  ain't  a  young  lady,"  said  Pet,"  no  more  than 
Ray  is  a'stranger.     And  if  I  7oas  a  young  lady,  and  went 


WBnrrimi 


laivn 


1 80  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

and  shot  a  young  man,  I  ought  to  help  to  nurse  him  well 

again,  I  should  think."  _ 

"  What  you  think,  Miss  Lawless,  is  of  very  little  conse- 
quence, allow  me  to  tell  you.  Your  duty  is  to  do  as  I  say, 
without  presuming  to  ask  questions.  I  have  hitherto  excused 
your  wild,  rude  conduct,  and  made  every  allowance  for  your 
want  of  proper  female  training ;  but  really,  your  conduct  is 
gettin<^  so  oulKi-;eous  there  is  no  telling  where  it  will  end. 
My  iiUention  is,  therefore,  to  put  a  stop  to  it  at  once." 

Pet's  eyes  flashed  open  defiance,  and  her  face  assumed  a 
look  of    resolute    determination;    but   she    prudently    said 

nothing.  .     ,      ,       „•,.,•    1 

"  1  have  resolved,  therefore,  Miss  Lawless,    said  the  judge, 
re-seatin^r  himself,  with  a  look  of  haughty  inflexibility  quite 
overpowering  ;  '^  to  send  you  immediately  to  school.     I  wrote 
some  time  ago  to  a  lady  who  keeps  a  private  boarding-school 
for  youn-^  giVls,  and  she  has  promised  to  take  charge  of  you 
at  any  time.     It  is  an  exceedingly  strict  establishment,  and 
the  severe  discipline  there   maintained   will   have  the  good 
effect,  I  hope,  of  taming  down  your  glaring  improprieties.     As 
1  feel  that  keeping  you  here  any  longer  is  like  holding  a  keg 
of  gunpowder  over  a  blazing  furnace,  I  intend  setting  out 
with  you  this  verv  afternoon.     You  need  dresses  and  various 
other  things,  I  know,  which  I  am  not  altogether  qualihed  to 
procure  ;   I    will,  therefore,  leave  a  sum   of  money   in  the 
hands  of  Mrs.  Moodie,  sufficient  to  purchase  you  a  compete 
ouilit.  and  such  other  things  as  you  m.ay  want.     It  is  useless 
for  you  to  remonstrate.  Miss  Lawless,"  said  the  judge,  with 
a  wave  of  his  jeweled  hand  ;  "  for  nothing  you  can  say  will 
move  me  from  my  purpose.     I   anticipated  violent  opposi- 
tion on  your  part,  and  I  am   quite  prepared  for  it.     Go.  / 
have  said,  this  afternoon,  and  go  you  shall.     If  you  attempt 
to  oppose  my  will,  you  shall  receive  the  severe  punishment 
you  have  already  merited."  ,,     ,     1 

The  judge  stroked  his  dark,  glossy  mustache,  and  looked 
threateningly  at  Pet;  but  to  his  surprise  that  eccentric  young 
lady  offered  not  the  slightest  opposition.  When  she  first 
he.trd  his  intention  of  sending  her  away  to  school,  she  had 
started  violently,  and  her  color  came  and  went  rapidly ;  but 
as  he  went  on,  her  eyes  dropped,  and  an  mexpacab.e  sm.i.e 
flickered  around  her  red  lips.     Now  she  stood  before  hira, 


FIREFLY  GOES  TO  SCHOOIy 


i8i 


with  demurely  cast  down  eyes— the  very  personification  of 
meekness  and  docility  ;  had  he  only  seen  the  insufferable 
light  of  mischief  blazing  under  their  long,  drooping,  black 
lashes,  resting  on  the  thin  crimson  cheeks,  what  a  different 
tale  he  would  have  read  1 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  Pet,  meekly  ;  "  I  suppose  I  can  t 
help  it,  and  have  got  to  put  up  with  it.  I  don't  know  as  I 
should  mind  going  to  school,  either,  for  a  change.  Mayn  t 
I  call  aP' '   .ee  Krniinie  before  I  go,  papa  ? " 

"  Hem-: -m  1  ah— I'll  see  about  it,"  said  the  judge,  rather 
perplexed  by  this  unusual  submissiveness,  and  intensely  re- 
lieved, too,  if  the  truth  must  be  told ;  for  in  his  secret  heart 
he  dreaded  a  "  scene"  with  his  stormy  little  daughter. 
»•  You  may  call  in,  for  a  moment,  as  we  go  past,  and  say 
good-by  ;  but  once  in  school,  vou  will  form  new  acquaint- 
ances among  your  own  standing  in  society,  and  drop  all  the 
low  connections  you  have  formed  around  here.  1  he  c\:\ui;h- 
ter  of  Judge  Lawless,"  said  that  gentleman,  drawing  himself 
up,  "  is  qualified,  by  birth  and  social  position,  to  take  her 
place  among  the  highest  and  most  exclusive  in  the  land,  and 
must  forget  that  she  ever  associated  with  — paupers  1  " 

A  streak  of  fiery  red  fiamed  across  the  dark  face  of  Pet, 
and  her  black  eyes  fiew  up,  blazing  indignantly  at  this  in- 
sult to  her  friends.  Hut  the  next  moment  she  remembered 
her  r<'/r,  and  down  fell  the  long  lashes  again  ;  and  Pet  stood 
as  meek  and  demure  as  a  kitten  on  the  eve  of  scratching. 

"  This  is  all,  I  believe,  Miss  Lawless,"  said  the  judge, 
resuming  his  customary,  suave  blandness,  and  feeling  in- 
tensely proud  of  his  own  achievement  in  having  awed  into 
submission  the  hitherto  dauntless  Pet ;  "  you  may  go  now, 
and  if  you  have  any  trifiing  preparations  to  make  before 
starting,  you  will  have  sufficient  time  before  dinner  to  accom- 
plish them.  I  shall  expect  when  we  reach  Mrs.  Moodie's, 
you  will  try  to  behave  yourself  like  a  young  lady,  as  my 
daughter  will  be  expected  to  behave.  You  must  drop  your 
rude,  brusque  ways,  your  slang  talk,  amazonian  bearing,  and 
become  quiet,  and  gentle,  and  ladylike,   and  accomplished. 

You  understand  ? "  ,       ^  •     u 

"  Yes,  sir !  "  murmured  Pet,  putting  her  forefinger  in  her 

mouth.  ., 

"  Very  well,  1  hope  you  do.     Go  now.' 


KTTim 


:3l%'« 


182  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN  S  VOW. 

With  her  long  iashes  still  drooping  over  her  wickcdlj- 
scintillating  eyes,  her  finger  still  stuck  in  her  mouth  Pet 
meekly  walkecl  out  of  the  august  presence,'  and  closed  the 
library-door  ,  but  no  sooner  was  she  safely  outside,  than  a 
change  most  v;onclerful  to  behold  came  over  the  spirit  of  her 
dream.  Up  flew  the  long  eyelashes,  revealing  the  dancing 
eves,  all  ablaze  with  the  anticipation  of  fun  and  f.ohc  ;  erect 
towered  the  little  form,  as  she  turned  ,  ai  .1  facing  the  door, 
applied  her  thumb  to  her  nose,  flourished  lu  r  four  fingers  in 
a  gesture  more  expressive  than  elegant,  and  ..xclaiiued  : 

''Ohl  won't  I  be  good,  though!  won't  1  be  lady-l.kel 
won't  I  forget  my  friends  1  won't  I  W  so  quiet,  and  gentle, 
and  good,  that  they'll  make  a  saint  out  o  me  F^tty  soon  1 
won'l  I  be  a  pocket-edition  of  '  St.  Rose  of  Lima  !       Maybe 

I  won't ;  that's  all !  "  , 

Pet  was  as  busy  as  a  nailer  until  dinne;  was  announced, 
packing  up  such  things  as  she  wished  to  take  with  her  to 

'"^Gr^eat  was  the  amazement  of  Ranty,  when  at  the  dinner- 
table  his  father,  in  pompous  tones,  announced  his  immediate 
departure  with  Pet.  Ranty  glanced  at  her.  as  she  sat 
quietly  looking  in  her  plate,  and  being  somewhat  w  ler 
awake  in  respect  to  her  than  his  father,  inwardly  muttered  : 
<.  Pet's  up  to  something ;  I  can  tell  that  whene^  er  she 
looks  particularly  quiet  and  saintly,  like  she  does  now ; 
there's  always  '  breakers  ahead,'  as  uncle  would  say.  Mrs. 
Moodie  will  find  her  hands  full  when  she  gets  our  let. 
SVui'll  discover  she's  caugiit  a  tartar,  I'll  be  bound  ? 

immediately  after  dinner,  black  Debby  was  ordered  to 
.^..^ss  Miss  Pet  for  her  journey,  while  the  judge  went  to  his 
own  apartment  to  make  himself  as  irresistible  as  possib  e. 
In  half  an  hour  both  were  ready.  Pet  was  handed  into  the 
carriage  by  her  father,  and  waved  a  smiling  adieu  to  Ranty. 
The  judge  took  his  seat  beside  her,  and  the  two  superb  car- 
riacre-hoises,  flashing  with  silver-mounted  harness,   started 

^'as  rh^^c'ar  within  sight  of  the  cottage,  Pet  who  had 
been  lying  back  silently  among  the  cushions,  started  up, 
exclaiming:  _^  ,  j,„  .  j,^  j^oing  in  there  for  a 

••    Stop     Ut        lllC      ^W\.<.A^-~)       J"l—     ;      -    -»»      o  O 

moment :  " 


FIRKVi.Y  GOES  TO  SCHOOL- 


183 


The  C'>  ichman  drew       .  and  Pet  sprung  out. 

«« I  will  f;ivc  you  jusi  five  minutes  to  make  your  adieux," 
said  the  jmlge,  drawing  out  his  watch  ;  "  if  you  are  not 
back  in  that  time.  I  shall  go  -.ter  you." 

Pets  eyes  again  defiantly  Ha  bed.  but  without  deigning  to 
reply,  she  ran  into  the  cott,i;:o. 

Erii      ic  met  her  at  the  do.  looked  her  surprise  at 

seei'ng  me  statelv  equipage  <  judge  Lawless  stop  at  'he 
cottage,  and  Miss  Lawless  herself  .ill  arrayed  for  a  journey. 

"  How  IS  Kiy  ?"  was  Pet's  first  ciuestion. 

"  fust  as  he    was   this  morning.     Where  are  you  going, 

!Vt  ?  " 

"  He  is  no  worse  ?  " 

"  No.     Are  yoii  going  away  ?  " 

«'  Has  the  doctor  been  here  since  ? 

"  Yes,  be  has  just  gone.     Where  are  you  going,  Pet  ? " 

»«Oh — to  school  1  " 

"  echoed  Erminie  in  dismay. 
old  boarding-school,  where   I 
and   sneeze  by  rule.     Ain't  it 


•y. 


"  To  school  1  goin 
**  Yes  ;  going  to  a 
am  to  walk,  talk,   eat 
nice  ?  " 

«'  Oh,  Pet,  I  am  so  sorry !  " 

"Well,  I'm  not  I  I  expect  to  have  a  real  nice  time. 
Everybody  mightn't  see  the  fun  of  it ;  but  I  do  1  I  intend 
to  finish  my  education,  and  be  back  in  a  w-ek  I  " 

"Oh,  Pet  1  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  when  you  are 
gone  ;  I  will  be  so  lonesome,"  said  Erminie,  her  sweet  blue 
eyes  tilling  with  tears, 

"  Why,  didn't  I  tell  you  I'd  be  back  in  a  week?  I  will, 
too.  There's  an  old  dragon  there,  Mrs.  Moodie— I've 
heard  of  her  before — and  she>  to  hammer  learning  into 
me.     Oh,  I'll  dose  her  1"  ... 

"  Won't  you  write  me  a  letter,  Pet  ?  "  said  Erminie,  who 
was  sobbing  now,  and  clinging  to  her  friend's  neck. 

"  To  be  sure  I  will,  and  I'll  bring  it  myself,  to  save  post- 
age. Don't  you  be  afraid,  Minnie.  I  can  take  cate  of 
Pet  Lawless,  and  won't  let  her  be  put  down  by  no  one. 
Good-by,  now;  Ive  only  got  five  minutes,  and  I  guess 
they're  up  by  this  time.  Now  don't  cry  and  take  on, 
Minnie  ;  yor  1  see  I'll  learn  so  fast  that   I'll  be  sent  home 

iiiiisiicvi  III         TTvvK.   I 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


m 
m 

15,6 


2.8 

3.2 

3.6 


•^      III 
If      11^ 


1.4 


II  2.5 

12.2 

2.0 
1.8 


1.6 


A     APPLIED  IfvMGE 


1653    Eos!    Mam    Street 

Rochester,    New   York         U609       USA 

(716)    482  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)   288  -  5989  -Fax 


rreu 


.gjvn 


184 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


And  with  these  mysterious  words,  Pet  gave  Erminie  a 
parting  kiss,  and  ran  from  the  cottage  just  as  the  judge  put 
his  head  out  from  the  carriage  to  call  her. 

The  journey  now  proceeded  uninterruptedly.  They  re^ 
mained  that  night  at  a  hotel,  and  continued  their  journey 

next  morning. 

A  little  after  noon,  they  reached  the  four-story  buildmg 
where  Mrs.  Moodie  kept  her  costly  and  exclusive  boardmg 
establishment  for  the  young  female  aristocracy  of  the  land, 
and  "  trained  up  "  (as  her  circulars  had  it)  the  rismg  fe. 
male  generation  in  all  the  branches  of  an  English,  French, 
musical,  and  religious  education. 

Judge  Lawless  and  his  daughter  were  shown  mto  a  magnifi^ 
cently-furnished  drawing-room,  where  a  "  cuUud  pusson " 
took  the  gentleman's  card  and  went  of!  in  search  of  the 
proprietress   (if   the  word    is   admissible)  of  the   establish^ 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  the  rustle  of  silk  resounded  in  the 
hall  Pet  drew  herself  up  straight  as  a  ramrod,  compressed 
her  lips,  cast  down  her  eyes,  folded  her  hands,  and  looked 
the  very  picture  of  a  timid,  bashful,  shy  little  country-girl. 
Then  the  door  opened,  and  magnificent  in  a  four-flounced 
plaid  silk,  with  a  miraculous  combination  of  lace  and  ril> 
bons  floating  from  her  head,  a  tall,  yellow,  sharp-looknig 
lady  of  middle-age  floated  in,  and  with  a  profound  courtesy 
to  the  judge  that  made  her  four  flounces  balloon  out  around 
her  after  the  fashion  of  children  when  making  "  cheeses," 
dropped  into  a  sofa,   half-buried     in  a  maze  of    floatmg- 

"^"^This  isMiss  Lawless,  I  presume?"  said  Mrs.  Moodie, 
with  a  bland  smile  and  a  wave  of  her  hand  toward  Pet. 

"  Yes,  madam,  this  is  my  daughter  ;  and  I  consider  it 
my  duty  to  tell  you  beforehand  that^  I  am  afraid  she  will 
occasion  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble."  ,       .  , 

"  Oh  1  I  hope  not  1  You  are  a  good  little  girl— are  you 
not,  my  dear  ?  "—with  a  sweet  smile  to  Pet.  "  In  what 
way,  may  I  ask,  my  dear  sir  ?  " 

"  In  many  ways,  madam.  She  is,  in  the  first  place,  un- 
bearably wild,  and  rude,  and  self-willed,  and— I  regret  to 
say — disobedient.  ■  •        ■     a 

« Is  it  possible  ?    I   really  would  never  have   ima^ned 


FIREFLY  GOES  TO  SCHOOL- 


185 


it !  "  cried  the  lady,  glancing  in  surprise  and  incredulity  to- 
ward the  shy,  quiet  looking  little  girl,  sitting  demurely  in 
her  chair,  and  not  venturing  to  lift  her  eyes.  "  I  think  1 
have  tamed  far  more  desperate  characters  than  this  ;  m 
f  ict  I  may  say  I  know  I  have.  Oh  1  I  will  have  no  trouble 
witli  your  little  girl !  Why,  she  is  one  of  the  qmetest  look- 
ing little  creatures  I  think  I  ever  saw." 

The  Judge  glanced  toward  Pet,  and  was  half  inclined  to 
fly  into  a  rage  at  discovering  her  so  unlike  herself,  giving 
the  direct  lie,  as  it  were,  to  his  assertions. 

"Come  over  here,  my  love,"  said  the  lady,  holding  out 
her  hand  with  a  bland  smile  to  Pet.     "  I  want  to  see  you. 

Pet,  after  the  manner  of  little  girls  when  they  are  fright- 
ened or  embarrassed,  instead  of  complying,  rubbed  her 
knuckles  into  her  eyes,  and  pretended  to  cry. 

"  Get  up,  and  do  as  you  are  told  1  How  dare  you  act  so  ? 
said  the  judge,  forgetting  his  "  company  manners"  in  his 
rage  at   what  he  could  easily  see  was  clever  acting  on  Pet  s 

^^"Now,  pray,  my  dear  sir,  don't  frighten  the  poor  little 
thing,"  cried  the  dulcet  tones  of  the  lady.  "  Little  girls  are 
always  nervous  and  frightened  when  first  ^sent  to  school. 
Come  here,  my  love ;  don't  be  afraid  of  me l" 

«  Go !"  thundered  the  judge,  with  a  brow  like  a  thunder- 
cloud. __       T._      ,. 

Pet,  still  sniffling,  got  up  and  went  over  to  Mrs.  Moodie. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  dear  ?"  smiled  the  lady,  taking 
Pet's  little  brown  hand  in  her  own  snowy  finge- 

"Pet-Pet-ronilla,"  sobbed  the  elf. 

"  Now,  you  must  not  cry,  dear ;  we  will  take  the  best  of 
care  of  you  here.  Of  course,  you  will  miss  your  papa  for  a 
few  days  ;  but  after  that  we  will  get  along  ver>'  nicely.  Were 
vou  ever  at  school  before  ?" 

"Ye-es,  ma-am." 

"  What  did  you  learn,  love?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

«  Petronilla  ?  "  sternly  began  the  judge. 

"  Now,  pray,  my  dear  sir,"   remonstrated  the  silkeri  tones 

of  the  lady,  "  leave  it  to  me.     Just  see  how  you  are  f righten- 

-•   "     ♦b^M'y.     You   can    read,    mv  dear,   01 


i^ned 


lag     LUC     puui 

course  I" 


mri 


:86 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"Yes,  nia-am." 

"  What  books  have  you  read,  love  ?  have  you  read 
many?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  What  was  their  names  ?  " 

"  '  Jack  and  the  Bean-stalk ; '  *  The  Goose  with  the  Golden 
Egg  ;  '    '  Little   Red—'  " 

"  Oh  !  my  dear,  I  don't  mean  those  !  Have  you  read  noth- 
ing else  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  only  a  spelling-book." 

"  Can  you  write  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  when  somebody  holds  my  hand." 

"  Have  you  studied  grammar  and  f^eography  ?  I  suppose 
not,  though." 

"  She  has,  madam ;  at  least  she  commenced,"  said  the 
judge. 

"  Ah,  indeed  !    What  is  English  Grammar,  love  ?  " 

"  A  little  book  with  a  gray  cover,"  said  Pec. 

"  No,  no  !    What  does  English  Grammar  teach  ?" 

"  I  don't  know — it  never  teached  me  anything ;  it  was 
Mr.  Hammer." 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  You  are  rather  obtuse,  I  fear.  Pe»-haps 
you  know  more  oi  geography,  though.  Can  you  tell  me 
how  the  earth  is  divided  ?  " 

"It  ain't  divided!''  said  Pet,  stou,ly.  "It's  all  one 
piece  1" 

"  Ah  I  I  fear  your  teacher  was  none  of  the  best,"  said  the 
lady,  shaking  her  head.  "  We  shall  have  to  remedy  all  the;>e 
defects  in  your  education,  however,  as  well  as  we  can.  I 
hope  to  send  you  a  very  different  little  girl  home,  judge." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  so,"  said  the  judge,  rising.  "  Farewell, 
madam.     Good-by,  Petronilla  ;  be  a  good  girl--remember." 

"Oh,  ni  remember'"  said  Pet,  significantly,  accepting 
her  father's  farewell  salute,  with   -  great  deal  of  sang-froid. 

Mrs.   Moodie    politely  bowed  stately  guest  out,  and 

then  turning  to   Petronilla,  said  : 

"  The  young  ladies  are  all  in  the  ;lass-room  studying,  my 
dear.  Would  you  prefer  ;^oing  there,  or  shall  I  have  you 
shown  to  your    room  ?  " 

•'  I'll  go  where  the  girls — I  mean  the  young  ladies  arc," 
said  Pet,  following  the  rustling  lady  up-stairs. 


FIREFLY  GOES  TO  SCHOOL. 


187 


«'  Very  well,  this  way,  then,"  said  madam,  turnmg  mto  a 
long  hall  with  large  white  folding-doors  at  the  end,  through 
which  came  drowsily  the  subdued  hum  of  recitation.  ^^ 

"  Well  •  I  think  I  have  done  the  bashful   up  beautifully ! 
mentally 'exclaimed    Petronilla.     <' I    reckon     I've   amazed 
papa.     Maybe    I  won't    surprise    them  some  if  not  more, 
before  this  night's  over.     Oh  1  won't  I  dose  them   though  ? 

And,  chuckling  inwardly,  our  wicked  elf  followed  the 
stately  Mrs.  Moodie,  who  marched  on  ahead,  in  bUssUii 
ignorance  of  the  diabolical  plot  brewing  in  Pets  mischief- 
loving  head. 


was 


one 


CHAPTER  XXL 

PET   BEGINS    HER   EDUCATION. 
*•  A  horrid  specter  rises  to  my  sight." 

••  I  hear  a  knocking  in  the  south  entry. 
Hark  !  more  knocking  !  "— MaCBKTH. 

Throwing  open  the  folding  doors,  Mrs.  Moodie  passed 
into  the  school-room,  closely  followed  by  Pet. 

It  was  a  long,  high,  wide  r.om,  with  desks  running  round 
the  walls,  and  maps,  globes,  books  and  slates  scattered  pro- 
f usely  around.  Before  eacn  desk  was  a  chair,  and  some  sixty 
girls   of  all  sizes  and  sorts  sat  now  busily  conning  their 

^Twoor  three  teachers  sat  in  various  directions  round  the 
room,  before  little  tables,  with  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  students, 
ready  to  note  down  the  slightest  infringement  of  the  rules. 

It  was  seldom  the  commlnder-in-chief  of  the  establishment 
swept  her  silken  flounces  through  the  hot,  dusty  c/asse ;  and 
now!  according  to  the  long-established  rule,  teachers  and 
pupis  rose  simultaneously,  and  courtesied  profoundly  to 
S^at  august  lady.  Then  every  eye  in  ^^^^ty-tJiree  heads 
turned  and  fixed  themselves  upon  the  "^  P"P^\  ^j^^^^^,^ 
sharp,  searching,  unpitying  stare  that  only  school  grrls  un- 
derstand. Petronilla,  however,  was  not ^inthe^^ ^remotest 
degree  troubled  with  that  disagreeaole  lairmg,  y^^^f-  -"-«^ 


•f.'sf  H 


188 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


fulness;  and  glancing  round  composedly,  she  swept  the 
whole  room  at  a  glance,  and  returned  every  stare  with  com- 
pound interest. 

"  Young  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Moodie,  with  a  graceful  wave 
of  her  hand  toward  Pet,  "  this  young  lady  is  Miss  PetroniUa 
Lawless,  of  Judestown,  and  will  be  your  future  companion 
and  fellow-pupil.  I  hope  you  will  be  mutually  pleased  with 
each  other,  and  try  to  make  her  at  home  among  you  as  soon 
as  possible.     Miss  Sharpe  she  will  enter  your  division." 

And,  with  a  stately  bow  of  her  beribboned  head,  Mrs. 
Moodie  rustled  loudly  from  the  room,  while  teachers  and 
pupils  again  bowed  in  deepest  reverence. 

Pet  gave  an  assenting  nod  to  Mrs,  Moodie's  remarks, 
which  had  the  effect  of  making  two  or  three  of  the  young 
ladies,  indulge  in  a  little  giggle  behind  their  handkerchiefs. 
Then,  from  a  distant  corner,  came  a  small,  keen,  wiry-look- 
ing human  terrier,  known  by  the  appropriate  cognomen  of 
Miss  Sharpe,  who  immediately  laid  hands  upon  Pet,  saying : 

"  Miss  Lawless,  come  this  way.  You  are  to  enter  my 
class." 

Pet,  as  good  a  physiognomist  as  ever  lived,  raised  her 
keen  eyes  to  the  cantankerous  face  of  the  cross-looking  old  • 
young  lady,  and  conceived,  upon  the  spot,  a  most  intense 
dislike  to  her.  The  other  girls,  at  a  silent  motion  from  their 
teachers,  had  dropped  into  their  seats,  and  resumed  their 
studies — still,  however,  covertly  watchmg  the  new  pupil  witt. 
all  a  schoolgirl's  curiosity. 

Pet  was  led  by  sharp  Miss  Sharpe  to  the  remote  corner 
from  whence  she  had  issued,  and  where  sat  some  dozen  or 
two  "juvenile  ladies,"  all  smaller  than  Pet.  Miss  Lawless 
looked  at  them  a  moment  in  indisguised  contempt,  and  then 
stopped  sl^ort,  jerked  herself  free  from  Miss  Sharpe's  grasp, 
and  coming  to  a  sudden  stand-still,  decidedly  began : 

"  I  ain't  a-going  to  sit  among  them  there  little  things.  I 
want  to  go  over  there  !  " 

And  she  pointed  to  where  a  number  of  young  ladies,  whose 
ages  might  have  varied  from  seventeen  to  twenty,  sat  in  the 
"  First  Division." 

A  very  little  thing  will  produce  a  laugh  in  a  silent  school- 
room, where  the  pupils  are  ever  ready  to  laugh  at  anything  a 
new  scholar  does  or  says ;  and  the  effect  of  this  brief  speech 


PET  BEGINS  HER  EDUCATION.  189 

was  a  universal  burst  of  subdued  laughter  from  the  sixty 
«  voune  ladies  "  aforesaid.  1.       , . 

"Well  you  can't  go  there!"  said  Miss  Sharpe,  sharply, 
looking  daggers  at  Pet.     "  You  are  to  sit  in  my  division- 

which  is  the  lowest  1 "  ,   ,.       4.  „^ 

a  Yes    I  see  it  is,"  said  Pet;  "but  you  needn't  get  so 
cross  about  it.     I  should  think,  when  my  papa  pays   or  me, 
I  could  sit  wherever  I  like.     I'm  sure  this  hot  old  room 
without  even  a  carpet  on  the  floor,  ain't  mixh  of  a  place  to 

"'lUTun'iversal  laugh,  louder  than  the  ^-t    fdlowed 
this ;  and  the  sixty  pairs  of  eyes  flashed  with  wicked  delight 
—for  Miss  Sharpe  was  the  detestation  of  the  school. 
"  Silence !  "  called  the  head  monitor    .ternly. 
Miss  Sharpe  clutched  Pet's  shoulder  v.ith  no  gentle  hand, 
and  jerked  her  into  a  seat  with  an  angry  scowl. 

«  You  must  keep  silence.  Miss  Lawless,"  she  began,  with 
asperity  "  Young  ladies  are  not  allowed  to  talk  in  the  class 
room.  You  will  have  to  sit  wherever  you  are  placed,  and 
make  no  complaints.  Such  rude  behavior  is  not  allowed 
here.  Hold  your  tongue,  now,  and  read  this.  ^^  ,  , 
Hereupon  she  took  from  her  table  the  "Pirst  Book  of 
Lessons,''  and  put  it  into  Pet's  hand,  with  another  scowl, 
darker,  if  possible,  than  the  tirst. 

Pet  look  it,  and  holding  it  upside  down  for  a  while  seemed 
to  be  intently  studying,  thinking  all  the  while  that  life  in  a 
school-room  was  not  only  as  pleasant,  but  considerably 
pleasanter,  than  she  had  anticipated.  ,u    t  ,\r..^  «;,« 

But  for  Pet  Lawless  to  keep  silent  any  length  of  time  was 
simply  a  moral  impossibility  ;  so,  finding  the  cross  teacher  s 
lynx  eyes  turned  for  a  moment  the  other  way,  she  bent  over 
toward  her  next  neighbor,  a  little  red-eyed,  red-haired  girl, 
about  her  own  age,  and  whispered,  in  strict  confidence, 
pointing  to  Miss  Sharpe  :  .      ,  „ 

"  Ain't  she  a  horrid  cross  old  thing  ?  ,  ,     • 

But  the  young  lady  only  glanced  askance  at  the  audacious 
little  law-breaker  at  her   side,  and  edged   nervously  away 

^Tetronilla  not  being  easily  affronted  or  slighted,  however 
came  close  to  little  red-head,  and  holding  her  book  to  her 
mouth,  whispered  again : 


liKKT  t  IIMU 


:=iiMa 


190 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  \  )W. 


*•  Does  she  ever  whip  you  or  anything  ?  She  looks  cross 
enough  to  do  it.     Ain't  it  awful,  coming  to  ;  (  hool  ?  " 

Seeing  there  was  no  escape  from  her  persecutor, red  head 
thrust  her  knuckles  into  her  eyes  and  began  to  cry. 

"What's  the  matter  now  .''  "  said  the  teacher,  turning  sharp- 
ly round,  and  looking  threateningly  a^  Pet. 

"  Why,  Miss  Sharpe,  she  keeps  a-talking  to  me  all  tlie 
time  and  won't  stop,"  whispered  the  unhappy  owner  of  the 
red  hair. 

*'  What  is  she  saying  ? "  said  Miss  Sharpe,  in  a  quick, 
irritated  voice,  that  strongly  reminded  Pet  of  Dismal  Hollow 
and  Miss  Priscilla  Toosypegs. 

"  She — she — she  says  you're  a — a — a  horrid  cross  old 
thing,  please,  ma'am !  "  wept  the  little  one,  digging  her 
knuckles  still  further  into  her  eyes. 

Miss  Sharpe's  face  grew  black  as  a  thunder-cloud — ow- 
ing to  her  peculiar  complexion,  she  generally  blushed  black 
or  deep  orange.  In  all  her  thirteen  years'  teaching,  she  had 
never  encountered  a  pupil  who  had  dared  to  call  her  a  "hor- 
rid cross  old  thing"  before.  Old  I — that  was  the  the  worst.  To 
L  called  so  before  the  whole  school,  too  !  Miss  Sharpe  sat 
for  one  awful  moment  perfectly  speechless  with  rage,  and  so 
black  in  the  face  that  there  seemed  serious  danger  of  her 
bursting  a  blood-vessel  on  the  spot. 

Once  again  a  loud  laugh,  that  would  not  be  restrained, 
came  from  the  sixty  pretty  mouths  of  the  sixty  young  ladies 
so  often  spoken  of.  Even  the  teachers,  although  they  stern- 
ly called  "  silence  !  "  were  forced  to  cough  violently  to  hide 
the  smile  that  was  creeping  over  their  faces  at  Miss  Sharpe's 


rage. 


Meantime,  our  dauntless  Pet  sat  with  a  sort  of  head-up- 
and-heels-down  look,  that  was  a  sight  to  see  ;  her  arms  akim- 
bo, and  her  bright  black  eyes  blazing  with  defiance,  daringly 
riveted  on  the  face  of  the  justly-offended  teacher. 

"  Did — did  you  dare  to  say  that,  you — you  impudent,  im- 
pertinent— young  saucy — " 

"  Abandoned,  outrageous  son  of  a  gun  1  "  put  in  Pet,  com- 
posedly. 

"  Silence  1      Did  you   dare  to  call  me  that  — that  name  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  call  you  any  name- — I  said  you  were  a  horrid 
cross  old   thing ;  and  I'll  leave  it  to    ever}^body   here   if  you 


'hor- 


com- 


PET  BEGINS  HER  EDUCATION.  191 

ain't  1     I  ain't  used   to  hold  my  tongue— and  I'm  not  going 
to  do  it,  either  1  "  said  Pet,  all  ablaze  with  defiance. 

Miss  Sharpe  sat  unable  to  speak,  her  rage  almost  swamped 
in  her  utter  amazement.  In  all  her  experience  she  had  never 
come  across  so  desperate  and  utterly  depraved  a  case  as  this. 
Every  book  was  dropped,  and  every  eye  fixed  on  Pet.  Even 
the  other  teachers,  unable  longer  to  repress  their  smiles,  ex- 
changed crlnnces  of  surprise,  and  watched  with  interest  and 
curiosity, "the  little  original,  who  sat  starin-  at  Miss  Sharpe 

as  if  for  a  wager.  u  j  •    ♦u- 

u  i_i  won't  endure  this !  I  am  not  to  be  insulted  in  this 
manner  I  "  said  Miss  Sharpe,  rising  passionately.  "  I'll  go 
and  report  her   to  Mrs.  Moodie ;  and  either   she  or  I  must 

leave  this  class.  "  .       ,  , 

«  My  dear  Miss  Sharpe,  be  calm,  "  said  the  head  teacher, 
a  pleasant-faced  young  girl,  as  she  rose  and  came  over. 
«'  There  is  no  use  in  troubling  Mrs.  Moodie  about  the  matter. 
This  little  girl,  you  perceive,  has  been  indulged  and  spoiled 
all  her  life,  and  cannot  readily  submit  to  authority  now.  My 
dear,"  she  added,  turning  to  Pet,  "you  must  sit  still  and 
not  talk.  It  is  against  the  rules ;  and  you  perceive  you  are 
giving  Miss  Sharpe  a  great  deal  of  trouble." 

"  Well,  so  is  she,  just  as  bad  1  She's  giving  me  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,  too  1     I  want  to  go  and  sit  in  your  class.  " 

"  But  you  can't  sit  in  my  class,  Miss  Lawless.  You  must 
keep  the  place  allotted  you.  Little  girls  should  be  docile 
and  obedient,  you  know,  and  do  as  they  are  told.  Will  you 
sit  still  now,  and  be  quiet  ?  "  _ 

"  Yes  ;  if  she  lets  me  alone  1 '    pointing  to  Miss  Sharpe. 
"  You    must  do  as  your  teacher  says,  child.      Now,  do  be 
a  good  little  girl,  and  don't  talk. ''     And   the   sweet-voiced 
young  lady  patted  Pet's  black  curly  head  kindly,    and   went 
back  to  her  place. 

Miss  Sharpe,  looking  as  if  she  would  like  to  pounce  upon 
Pet,  and  pound  the  life  out  of  her,  relapsed  scowling  into  her 
seat ;  and  Pet,  curling  her  lip  contemptuously  at  the  cross 
teacher,  took  a  lead  pencil  out  of  her  pocket  and  began  amus- 
ing herself  drawing  caricatures  of  he:  ;.■  over  the  book  she 
held  in  her  hand. 

A  profound  silence  again  fell  on  the  hot,  close  c/asse,^:ind 
the   girls  bent  over    to-morrow's  tasks ;  now  and  then  h«\v= 


iULAML 


::ili#ii 


X92 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


ever,  smiling  slyly  at  each  other,  and  glancing  significantly 
at  tlie  new-comer,  whose  short  half-hour  in  school  had  already 
created  a  sensation  quite  unparalleled  in  all  the  past  history 
of  the  establishment,  and  which  was  destined  to  fill  sixty 
letters  home  to  "  papa  and  mama  "  next  time  they  wrote. 
Then,  in  iialf  an  hour  more,  a  bell  loudly  rung,  and  every  girl 
juniped  eagerly  up.  This  was  the  signal  that  school  for  the 
day  w;:s  dismissed  ;  and  books,  slates  and  pencils  were  hustled 
hastily  out  of  sight ;  and  two  by  two  the  girls  marched  through 
the  now  open  folding-doors,  beginning  with  the  tallest,  through 
the  long  hall  staircase,  through  another  hall,  out  of  a  side- 
room,  and  into  an  immense  play-ground,  furnished  with 
wings,  skipping-ropes,  hoops  and  everything  else  necessary 
for  recreation  and  amusement. 

But  no  longer  were  hoops,  and  swings,  and  skipping-ropes 
seized  with  loud  shouts  as  heretofore  ;  newer  and  more  at- 
tractive  game  was  in  view  now,  and  every  one  crowded 
around  our  Pet,  surveying  her  with  open  eyes  as  if  she  were 
some  natural  curiosity. 

But  Pet  had  no  intention  of  standing  there  to  be  looked 
at  and  cross-questioned  ;  and  breaking  through  the  rmg 
with  the  yell  of  an  Ojibewa  Indian,  she  sprung  into  one  of 
the  swings,  and  invited  "  some  of  'em  to  come  and  swing 
her.  " 

Like  hops  in  beer,  Pet's  presence  seemed  to  throw  the 
whole  assembly  in  a  ferment  hitherto  unknown.  The  swings 
flew  wildly  ;  the  skipping-ropes  went  up  and  down  with  light* 
ning-like  velocity ;  the  hoops  whirled  and  flew  over  the 
ground  in  a  way  that  must  have  astonished  even  themselves, 
if  hoops  ever  can  be  astonished.  The  girls  raced,  and  ran, 
and  skipped,  and  laughed  as  they  had  never  done  before ; 
and  the  noise  and  uproar  waxed  "  fast  and  furious."  And 
wherever  the  fun  was  highest,  the  laughter  loudest,  the  excite- 
ment wildest,  there  you  might  find  Pet,  the  center  and  origin 
of  it  all.  Cross  Miss  Sharpe,  who  had  been  sent  out  to  look 
after  them,  and  see  that  none  of  them  broke  their  necks,  if  pos- 
sible, wrung  her  hands  in  despair  at  the  awful  din,  and  rushed 
hither  and  thither,  scolding,  shaking,  threatening,  and  vocifer- 
ating at  the  top  of  her  lungs ;  but  all  in  vain.     They  were  eveiy 


one  going 


laZjf- 


-iiidk  was  cviuciiL, 


J   J-U^t 

.iiiu  Lilai, 


hat  litt 


IC    IIIIKA.,    >V 


ivh9 


PET  BKGTNS  HER  EDUCATION. 


193 


1 


had  come  there  that  day  to  throw  the  whole  school  in  convul- 
sions, was  tlic  cause  of  it  all. 

JUit  even  school-girls,  with  lungs,  and  throats,  and  faces 
very  often  of  brass,  must  get  exhausted  at  last ;  and  after  an 
hour's  steady  screaming  and  yelling,  the  whole  assemblage 
shrieked,  laughed  and  shouted  themselves  iucO  hoarseness 
and  comparative  quiet. 

Pet,  somewhat  fatigued  after  her  exertions,  wms  .seated  in 
the  midst  of  a  g-oupof  girls,  telling,  in  solemn  tones,  a 
most  awful  •'  raw-head  and  bloody  bones  "  ghost-story,  which 
she  "  made  up  "  as  she  went  along,  and  which  was  destined 
to  deprive  at  least  twenty  little  individuals  of  a  wink  of  sleep 
that  night. 

Every  one  was  bending  eagerly  forward,  listening  breath- 
lessly to  Pet,  who  had  just  got  "  Jack  "  into  the  "  haunted  cas- 
ile,"  and  was  announcing  the  coming  of  a  "great  big  blacK 
man,  with  red-hot  coals  for  eyes,  and  flames  of  tire  coming  out 
of  his  mouth,"  when  a  thin,  sharp  shadow  fell  over  them,  and, 
looking  up  with  a  terrified  start,  they  beheld  Miss  Sharpe 
standing  over  them. 

"  What  is  she  talking  about  now  ? "  queried  that  lady, 
with  no  very  amiable  glances  toward  Pet. 

'>  She's  telling  a  ghost  story ;  that's  what  she's  talking 
about!"  said  Pet,  instantly  beginning  to  be  provoking. 

"  Ghosts  1  "  said  Miss  Sharpe,  turning  up  her  nose  though 
nature  had  already  saved  her  the  trouble.  "  Such  stuff  I 
You  must  not  terrify  the  children  by  telling  them  such  things, 
little  girl.  " 

"  It's  not  stuff  I  "  said  Pet;  "  It's  as  true  as  preaching. 
I've  seen  lots  of  ghosts  myself.     There,  now  I  " 

"  Miss  Lawless,  do  you  know  where  little  girls  that  tell 
fibs  go  to  ?"  said  Miss  Sharpe,  sternly. 

"  Yes,  the  same  place  you'll  go  to,  I  expect,  "  said  Pet, 
pertly;  "  but  I  ain't  telling  fibs— I  never  do.  And  I  have 
seen  plenty  of  ghosts,  too.  There's  a  whole  settlement  of 
them  out  where  we  live.  I  only  wish  I  had  brought  some  ct 
them  to  school  with  me,  and  then  you  would  sec.  That's 
all !  " 

'•You  na  -  ^hty  little  girl  1  "  said  Miss  Sharpe,  angrily.  "  How 
dare  vou  i  i  me  such  a  story  ?  You  have  seen  ghosts,  indeed  I 
Why,  everybody  knows  there  is  no  such  thing." 


SBrir-rTorr 


194 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


•'  What  do  you  bet  there's  not  ?"  said  Pet. 

••  Miss  Lawless,  you  forj^et  to  whom  you  are  speaking  I" 
said  Miss  Sharpe,  with  dignity. 

"  No,  I  don't ;  I  know  very  well  to  whom  I  am  speak- 
ing," said  Pet,  imitating  her  tone ;  "  and  I  know  just  as  well 
there  are  ghosts.  They're  great,  tall,  thin  people,  in  white, 
with  hollow  eyes,  that  come  at  midnight  and  scare  people. 
I've  seen  them,  and  1  guess  I  ought  to  know." 

Miss  Sharpe,  disdaining  an  altercation  with  the  elf,  who 
was  already  bristling  up  in  anticipation  of  a  controversy, 
turned  and  walked  away  majestically,  or,  at  least,  as  majesti- 
cally as  her  four  feet  eight  inches  would  allow. 

Pet  looked  after  her  with  a  boding  eye  that  lold  wonder- 
ful tales,  if  she  could  only  have  read  it ;  but  she  contented 
herself  with  mentally  exclaiming: 

"Oh,  I'll  dose  youl  Maybe  you  won't  see  a  ghost  to- 
night, old  Miss  Vinegar." 

"  There,  now,  go  on  with  the  story,"  chorused  half  a  dozen 
voices,  when  Miss  Sharpe  was  gone. 

"  See  here,"  said  Pet,  without  heeding  the  request,  *'  where 
does  she-  Miss  Sharpe  I  mean — sleep  at  night  ?  " 

"  With  us,"  said  one  of  the  small  girls,  "  in  the  children's 
dormitory.  The  large  girls  have  rooms  to  themselves, 
every  two  of  them  ;  but  we  sleep  in  a  long  room  all  full  of 
beds,  and  Miss  Sharpe  sleeps  there,  too." 

"  Hum-m-m  1     Do  you  know  where  I  am  to  sleep?" 

"  Yes  ;  all  Miss  Sharpens  division  sleep  in  the  children's 
dormitory.     You'll  be  there." 

"Um-m-ml     1  should  like  to  see  the  place.     Would  we 

be  let  ? "  .  ,    .      .    ^. 

"  Oh,  yes.  If  you  can  get  one  of  the  girls  m  the  First 
Division   to  go  with  you,  she  can  take  you  all  over  the 

house." 

Off  ran  Pet,  and  without  much  difficulty  she  persuaded 
one  of  the  First  Division  girls  to   show  her   through  the 

house. 

The  first  place  they  visited  was  the  children's  dormitory. 
This  was  a  long  room,  with  rows  of  white-curtained  beds  on 
either  side  for  the  children,  and  one  larger  than  the  rest,  at 
the  turtner  cnu,  lui    ^vnsa   onaiuc.     uiii«ii    Ttt*.^i«v^>in«»ui>  — •'-• 


iViiss     oiiaipc. 


PET  BEGINS  HER  EDUCATION. 


195 


making  I" 

1  speak- 
t  as  well 
n  white, 
e  people. 

elf,  who 

troversy, 

majesti- 

wonder- 
ontented 

jhost  to- 

:  a  dozen 

, "  where 

:hildren's 
imselves, 
all  full  of 

)?" 
:hildren*s 

^ould  we 

the  First 
over  the 

)ersuaded 
rough  the 

lormitory. 
1  beds  on 
le  rest,  at 


mirrors  were  scattered  around,  and  near  each  bed  was  placed 
a  small  trunk  belonging  to  the  children. 

Pet  scanned  these  arrangements  with  a  thoughtful  eye. 
Then,  turning  to  her  cicerone,  she  said  : 
"  In  which  of  the  bods  am  I  to  sleep  ?  " 
"  In  this  one,"  said  the  girl,  indicating  one  at  the  extreme 
end  of  the  room,  opposite  Miss  Sharpe's.  "  The  room  was 
full ;  so  they  had  to  put  it  close  to  the  window,  and  you  will 
have  a  chance  to  see  everybody  that  passes." 

Pet  went  over  to  examine.  Within  a  few  inches  of  the 
bed  was  a  window  overlooking  the  street.  It  was  partly 
raised  now,  and  Pet  thrust  her  head  out  to  "  see  what  she 
could  see,  "  as  they  say  .  The  first  thing  that  struck  her 
was  the  fact  t!iat  the  window  was  in  a  straight  line  above  the 
hall  door,  and  only  removed  from  it  t!ie  distance  of  a  foot 
or  two.  Instantly  a  demoniacal  project  of  mischief  flashed 
across  her  fertile  brain;  and  as  she  withdrew  her  head  her 
wicked  eyes,  under  their  long,  drooping  lashes,  were  fairly 
scintillating  with  the  anticipation  of  coming  fun. 

"  Do  they  use  bells  or  knockers  01  their  doors,  around 
here  ? "  she  carelessly  asked,  as  she  flitted  about. 

"  Some  use  one,  some  the  other.     There  is  a  large  brass 
knocker  on  this  door.     I  am  sure  you  must  have  seen  it." 
"  I  had  forgotten.     This  is  my  trunk,  isn't  it  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  What  time  do  they  go  to  bed  here  ?  " 
"Nine  in  summer — eight  in  winter." 
"  Hum-m-m  1  I  know  now.     And  do  they  stay  out  in  that 
yard  all  the  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  As  soon  as  it  gets  dusk  we  come  in,  have  sup- 
per, and  then  the  larger  girls  practice  their  music,  or  read, 
or  write  to  their  friends  or  study,  or  sew,  or  do  whatever  they 
like ;  and  the  little  girls  of  your  division  play  about  the  halls 
and  passages." 

"  Um-m-m  1  I  see,'*  said  Pet,  in  the  same  musing  tone, 
while  her  wicked  eyes,  under  their  long,  dark  lashes,  were 
twinkling  with  the  very  spirit  of  mischief.  "  Could  you  get 
me  a  good  long  cord,  do  you  think  ?  1  want  it  for  some- 
thing." 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.     Do  you  want  it  now  ?  " 
«*  Yes,  please." 


'i^km  i*.g  iwiji 


*JwB-J-^.  MTitJi-^'*^  'J 


196 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"  Very  well ;  wait  here  till  I  go  up  to  my  room  and  get  it 
for  you,"  said  the  unsuspecting  young  lady. 

"  Oh,  ching-a-rirtg-a-ring-chaw  !  "  shouted  Pet,  dancing 
round  the  long  room  with  irrepressible  glee,  when  she  found 
herself  alone.  "  Oh,  won't  I  have  fun  to-night  1  Won't  I 
.show  them  what  spiritual  rapping  is  1  Won't  there  be  weep- 
ing and  gnashing  of  teeth  before  morning  1 

"  '  Mrs.  MacShuttle, 

She  lived  in  a  scuttle, 
Along  with  her  dog  and  her  cat.'  " 

sang  the  imp,  seizing  a  huge  pitcher  from  one  of  the  wash- 
stands  and  flourishing  it  over  her  head  as  she  sung.  Round 
and  round  she  whirled,  until  her  pitcher  came  furiously 
against  the  wall,  and  smash  1  in  a  thousand  fragments  it  fell 
on  the  floor. 

Arrested  in  her  dance.  Firefly  stood  still  one  moment,  in 
dismay.  Here  was  a  winding-up  of  her  extempore  waltz 
quite  unlocked  for.  There  on  the  floor  lay  the  pitcher, 
shivered  into  atoms,  and  there  stood  Pet,  holding  the  handle 
still,  and  glancing  utterly  aghast  from  the  ruins  on  the  floor 
to  the  fragment  of  crockery  in  her  hand. 

"  Whew  1  here's  a  go  1  "  was  the  elegant  expression  first 
jerked  out  of  Pet  by  the  exigency  of  the  case.  I  expect  this 
pitcher's  been  in  the  establishment  ever  since  it  was  an  estab- 
lishment, and  would  have  been  in  it  as  much  longer  only  for 
me.  Pet,  child,  look  out  1  There'll  be  murder,  distraction, 
and  a  tearing  off  of  our  shirts  1  Fall  of  Jerusalem  1  won't 
Miss  Sharpe  give  me  a  blowing  up.  though !  " 

"  Oh,  Miss  Lawless  !  what  have  you  done  ?  "  cried  the 
young  lady,  in  tones  of  consternation,  as  she  suddenly  entered. 

"  Smashed  the  crockery,"  said  Pet,  coolly  pointing  to  the 

wreck. 

"Oh,  dear  mel     Oh,  Miss  Lawless!  how  could  you  do 


so 


> " 


\\h 


"  Didn't  go  for  to  do  it.     Got  smashed  itself." 

"  Miss  Sharpe  will  be  very  angry.  Miss  Lawless." 

"  Well,  that  don't  worry  me  much,"  said  Pet. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  will  blame  me.     I  should  not  have  left 

you  here  alone,"  said  the  young  lady,  twisting  her  fingers  in 

distress. 


PET  BEGINS  HER  EDUCATION. 


197 


and  get  it 

:,  dancing 
1  she  found 
I  Won't  I 
re  be  weep- 


f  the  wash- 
g.  Round 
le  furiously 
nents  it  fell 

moment,  in 
ipore  waltz 
;he  pitcher, 
the  handle 
on  the  floor 

ression  first 
expect  this 

?asan  estab- 

^er  only  for 
distraction, 

ilem  I  won't 

"  cried  the 
:nly  entered, 
nting  to  the 

)uld  you  do 


5S." 

lot  have  left 
er  fingers  in 


«  No,  she  won't.     I'll  send  out  and  buy  another  one." 
«'0h,  you  can't.     The  servants  are  not  allowed  to   run 

errands  for  the  young  ladies  without  permission  from  Mrs. 

Moodie.     You  will  have  to  tell  Miss  Sharpe." 

"  Well,  come  along  them  ;  I'll  tell  her.     Did  you  bring  the 

string?" 

"  Yes,  here  it  is.     Oh,  Miss  Lawless  !     I  am  exceedmgly 

sorry." 

u  Well — my  goodness !  you  needn't  be.  An  old  blue  pitch- 
er !  I  used  to  throw  half  a  dozen  of  them,  every  day,  at  the 
servants,  at  home,  and  nobody  ever  made  a  fuss  about  it. 
A  common  old  blue  pitcher — humph !  " 

"  Oh  1  but  it  was  different  at  home.  They  were  your  own, 
there ;  and  Miss  Sharpe  is  so — queer.  She  will  scold  you 
dreadfully." 

"  Well,  so  will  I,  then — there  1  I  can  scold  as  long  and 
as  loud  as  she  can,  I  reckon.  An  old  blue  pitcher !  Humph ! 
Wish  to  gracious  I  had  smashed  the  whole  set,  and  made  one 
job  of  it." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  playground  ;  and  mak- 
ing her  way  through  the  crowd,  Pet  marched  resolutely  up  to 
Miss  Sharpe,  -nd  confronted  that  lady  with  an  expression  as 
severe  as  thc.;^.i  she  were  about  to  have  her  arrested  for  high 
treason. 

"  Miss  Sharpe,  look  here  1 "  she  began.  "  I've  been  up- 
stairs and  smashed        old  blue  pitcher.     There  1  " 

"  What !  "  said  Miss  Sharpe,  knitting  her  brows,  and  rather 
at  a  loss. 

"Miss  Lawless  was  in  the  children's  dormitory,  Miss 
Sharpe,"  explained  the  girl  who  had  been  Pet's  guide.  "  and 
she  accidentally  broke  one  of  the  pitchers.  She  could  not 
help  it,  I  assure  you." 

"  But  I  know  she  could  help  it,"  screamed  Miss  Sharpe. 
"  She  has  done  it  on  purpose,  just  to  provoke  me.  Oh,  you 
little  limb  you  1 — you  unbearable  little  mischief-maker  1  You 
deserve  to  be  whipped  till  you  can't  stand." 

"  See  here,  Miss  Sharpe  ;  you'll  be  hoarse  pretty  soon,  if 
you  keep  screaming  that  way,"  said  Pet,  calmly. 

"  I'll  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Moodie.  I'll  go  this  minute.  Such 
conduct  as  this,  you'll  see,  will  not  be  tolerated  here,"  shrieked 
the  exasperated  lady,  shaking  her  fist  furiously  at  Pet. 


u^mui^..' aSs^  ^-■■.,^iJttm»iim:.  '  ./-.vt^' 


^  :SM.MC»'r 


198 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"  Mrs.  Moodie  has  gone  out,"  said  one  of  the  girls. 

"  Then  I'll  tell  her  to-morrow.     I'll—" 

Here  the  loud  ringing  of  a  bell  put  a  stop  to  further  decla- 
mation, and  the  girls  all  flew,  flocking  in,  and  marched,  two 
by  two,  into  another  large  room,  where  a  long  supper-table 
was  laid  out. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  the  evening  meal  was  over.  Then 
the  larger  girls  dispersed  themselves  to  their  various  avo- 
cations, and  the  younger  ones,  under  the  care  of  a  gentler 
monitor  than  Miss  Sharpe,  raced  about  the  long  halls  and 
passages,  and  up  and  down-stairs. 

Now  was  the  time  Pet  had  been  waiting  for.  Gliding  un- 
observed, up-stairs,  she  entered  the  dormitory,  and  securing 
one  end  of  the  string  to  the  bed-post,  let  the  remainder  drop 
out  of  the  window.  Then  returning  down-stairs,  she  passed 
unnoticed  through  the  front  hall,  and  finally  secured  the  other 
end  of  the  string  to  the  knocker  of  the  door.  It  was  too 
dark,  as  she  knew,  for  any  to  observe  the  cord  in  opening  the 
door. 

This  done,  she  returned  to  her  companions,  all  aglow  with 
delight  at  her  success  so  far ;  and  instigated  by  her,  the  din 
and  uproar  soon  grew  perfectly  unbearable,  and  the  whole 
phalanx  were  ordered  off  to  bed  half  an  hour  earlier  than 
usual,  to  get  rid  of  the  noise. 

As  Judge  Lawless  had  said,  it  was  a  rigidly  strict  establish- 
ment ;  and  the  rule  was  that,  at  half-past  nine,  every  light 
should  be  extinguished,  and  all  should  be  safely  tucked  up 
in  bed.  Even  Mrs.  Moodie  herself  was  no  exception  to  this 
rule  ;  for,  either  thinking  example  better  than  precept,  or 
being  fond  of  sleeping,  ten  o'clock  always  found  her  in  the 
arms  of  Morpheus. 

Therefore,  at  ten  o'clock,  silence,  and  darkness,  and  slum- 
ber, hung  over  the  establishment  of  Mrs.  Moodie.  In  the 
children's  dormitory,  nestling  in  their  white-draped  beds,  the 
little  tired  pupils  were  sleeping  the  calm,  quiet  sleep  of 
childhood,  undisturbed  by  feverish  thoughts  or  gloomy  fore- 
bodings of  the  morrow.  Even  Miss  Sharpe  had  testily  per- 
mitted herself  to  fall  stiffly  asleep,  and  lay  with  her  mouth 
open,  stretched  out  as  straight  as  a  ramrod,  and  about  as 
grim.     All  were  asleep — all  but  one. 

One  wicked,  curly,  mischief-brewing  little  head  there  was 


iris. 

rther  decla- 
irched,  two 
apper- table 

^er.     Then 

irious  avo- 

[  a  gentler 

halls  and 

jliding  un- 
id  securing 
inder  drop 
she  passed 
d  the  other 
;t  was  too 
opening  the 

aglow  with 

er,  the  din 

the  whole 

arlier  than 

t  establish- 
every  light 
tucked  up 
ion  to  this 
precept,  or 
her  in  the 

,  and  slum- 
ie.  In  the 
d  beds,  the 
t  sleep  of 
loomy  fore- 
testily  per- 
her  mouth 
id  about  as 

.  there  was 


PET  BEGINS  HER  EDUCATION. 


199 


by  far  too  full  of  naughty  thoughts  to  sleep.     Pet,  nestling 
on  her  pillow,  was  actually  quivering  with  suppressed  delight 

at  the  coming  fun.  ,    ,         .         . 

'.e  heard  ten  o'clock— eleven  strike,  and  then  she  got  up 
i  -ed  and  commenced  operations.  Her  first  care  was  to 
ileal  softly  to  one  of  the  washstands,  and  thoroughly  wet  a 
sponge,  which  she  placed  on  the  window-ledge  within  her 
reach,  knowing  she  would  soon  have  occasion  to  use  it. 

Taking  some  phosphureted  ether,  which  she  had  procured 
for  the  purpose  of  "  fun  "  before  leaving  home,  she  rubbed 
it  carefully  over  her  face  and  hands.  •  ,    1,  • 

Reader,  did  you  ever  see  any  one  in  the  dark  with  their 
faces  and  hands  rubbed  over  with  phosphureted  ether  ?  look- 
ing as  though  they  were  all  on  fire— all  encircled  by  flames  ? 
If  you  have,  then  you  know  how  our  Pet  looked  then. 

Sitting  there,  a  frightful  object  to  contemplate,  she  waited 
impatiently  for  the  hour  of  midnight  to  come. 

The  clock  struck  twelve,  at  last ;  the  silence  was  so  pro- 
found that  the  low,  soft  breathing  of  the  >oung  sleepers  around 
her  could  be  plainly  heard.  In  her  long,  flowing  night-wrap- 
per, Pet  got  up  and  tiptoed  softly  across  the  room  to  the  bed 
where  the  cross  she-dragon  lay.  ,.  ,       * 

Now,  our  Pet  never  thought  there  could  be  the  .slightest 
danger  in  what  she  was  about  to  do,  or,  wild  as  she  was,  she 
would  most  assuredly  not  have  done  it.  She  merely  wished 
to  frighten  Miss  Sharpe  for  her  obstinacy,  unbelief  in  ghosts 
and  crossness,  and  never  gave  the  matter  another  thought. 
Therefore,  though  it  was  altogether  an  inexcusable  trick, 
still  Pet  was  not  so  very  much  to  blame  as  may  at  first  ap- 
pear. 

Now  she  paused  for  a  moment  to  contemplate  the  sour, 
grim-looking  sleeper— thinking  her  even  more  repulsive  in 
sleep  than  when  awake ;  and  then  laying  one  hand  on  her 
face,  she  uttered  a  low,  hollow  groan,  destined  for  her  ears 

alone.  ,      j- 

Miss  Sharpe,  awakened  from  a  deep  sleep  by  the  disagree- 
able and  startling  consciousness  of  an  icy-cold  hand  on  her 
face,  started  up  in  affright,  and  then  she  beheld  an  awful 
vision  !  A  white  specter  by  her  bedside,  all  in  fire,  with 
flames  encircling,'  face  and  hands,  and  sparks  of  fire  seeming- 
ly darting  from  eyes  and  mouth  1 


•-tttjum,. 


200 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


lit 


For  one  terrible  moment  she  was  unable  to  utter  a  sound 
for  utter,  unspeakable  horror.  Then,  with  one  wild  piercing 
shriek,  she  buried  her  head  under  the  clothes,  to  shut  out  the 
awful  specter.  Such  a  shriek  as  it  was  !  No  hyena,  no 
screech-owl,  no  peacock  ever  uttered  so  ear-splitting  throat- 
rending  a  scream  as  that.  No  word  or  words  in  the  whole 
English  language  can  give  the  faintest  idea  of  that  terrible 
screech.  Before  its  last  vibration  had  died  away  on  the  air. 
every  sleeper  in  the  establishment,  including  madame  herself, 
had  sprung  out  of  bed,  and  stood  pale  and  trembling,  listen- 
ing for  a  repetition  of  that  awful  cry.  From  twenty  beds  in 
the  dormitory,  twenty  little  sleepers  sprung,  and  immediately 
began  to  make  night  hideous  with  small  editions  of  Miss 
Sharpe's  shriek.  Gathering  strength  from  numbers,  twenty 
voices  rose  an  octave  higher  at  every  scream,  and  yell, 
after  yell,  in  the  shrillest  soprano,  pierced  the  air,  although 
not  one  of  them  had  the  remotest  idea  of  what  it  was  all 
about. 

At  the  first  alarm,  Firefly  had  flitted  swiftly  and  fleetly 
across  the  room,  jumped  into  bed,  and  seizing  the  sponge, 
gave  her  face  and  hands  a  vigorous  rubbing;  and  now  stood 
screammg  with  the  rest,  not  to  say  considerably  louder  than 
any  of  them. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Sharpe,  get  up  !  the  house  is  on  fire  I  we're  all 
murdered  m  our  beds !"  yelled  Pet,  going  over  and  catching 
that  lady  by  the  shoulder  with  a  vigorous  shake 

And  "Oh,  Miss  Sharpe  1  Oh,  Miss  Sharpe  1  Get  up. 
Oh-oh-oh  1"  shrieked  the  terrified  children,  clustering  round 
the  bed,  and  those  who  could  springing  in  and  shakin<^ 
her.  *' 

With  a  disagreeable  sense  of  being  half  crushed  to  death, 
Miss  Sharpe  was  induced  to  remove  her  head  from  under  the 
clothes,  and  cast  a  quick,  terrified  glance  around.  But  the 
coast  was  clea:  —the  awful  specter  was  gone. 

And  now  another  noise  met  her  ears— the  coming  footsteps 
of  every  one  within  the  walls  of  the  establishment,  from  Mrs 
Moodie  down  to  the  little  maid-of -all-work  in  the  kitchen. 
In  they  rushed,  armed  with  bedroom-candlesticks,  rulers,  ink- 
bottles,  slate-frames,  and  various  other  warlike  weaDons.  nre- 
pared  to  do  battle  to  the  last  gasp. 

And    then  it  was:  "Oh,  what  on   earth   is  the  matter? 


PET  BEGINS  HER  EDUCATION. 


20I 


What  on   earth  is   the  matter  ?  What  is   the  matter  ?  "  from 

every  lip. 

Miss  Sharpe  sprung  out  of  bed  and  fled  in  terror  to  the 
side  of  Mrs.  Moodie. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Moodie,  it  was  awful  1  Oh,  it  was  dreadful  1 
With  flames  of  fire  coming  out  of  its  mouth,  and  all  dressed 
in  white.  Oh,  it  was  terrible  1  Ten  feet  high  and  all  in 
flames  1  "  shrieked  Miss  Sharpe,  like  one  demented. 

"  Miss  Sharpe,  what  in  the  name  of  Heaven  is  all  this 
about?  "asked  the  startled  Mrs.  Moodie,  while  the  sixty 
"  young  ladies  "  clung  together,  white  with  mortal  fear. 

'•  Oh,  Mrs.  Moodie,  I've  seen  it  1  It  was  frightful  1  all  in 
flames  of  fire  !  "  screamed  the  terrified  Miss  Sharpe. 

"  Seen  it  1  seen  what  ?  Explain  yourself.  Miss  Sharpe." 
"  Oh,  it  was  a  ghost  1  a  spirit !  a  demon  I  a  fiend  I  I  felt 
its   blazing   hands   cold   as   ice   on   my   face.     Oh,    good 
Heaven  !  "  And  again  Miss  Sharpe's  shriek  at  the  recollec- 
tion resounded  through  the  room. 

"  Blazing  hands  cold  as  ice  1  Miss  Sharpe,  you  are  crazy  I 
Calm  yourself,  I  command  you,  and  explain  why  we  are  all 
roused  out  of  our  beds  at  this  hour  of  night  by  your  shrieks," 
said  Mrs.  Moodie,  fixing  her  sharp  eyes  steadily  upon 
her. 

That  look  of  rising  anger  brought  Miss  Sharpe  to  her 
senses.     Wringing  her  hands,  she  cried  out : 

"  Oh,  I  saw  a  ghost,  Mrs.  Moodie ;  an  awful  ghost  1  It 
came  to  my  bedside  all  on  fire,  and — " 

"  A  ghost  1  nonsense,  Miss  Sharpe  1  "  broke  out  the  now 
thoroughly  enraged  Mrs.  Moodie,  as  she  caught  Miss 
Sharpe  by  the  shoulder,  and  shook  her  soundly.  "  You 
have  been  dreaming  ;  you  have  had  the  nightmare ;  you  are 
crazy !  A  pretty  thing,  indeed  !  that  the  whole  house  is  to  be 
aroused  and  terrified  in  this  way.  I  am  ashamed  of  you,  Miss 
Sharpe,  and  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  terrify 
those  little  children  committed  to  your  charge  in  this  manner. 
I  never  heard  of  anything  so  abominable  in  my  life  before,  " 
said  the  angry  Mrs.  Moodie. 

"  Oh,  indeed,  indeed  I  saw  it  1  Oh,  indeed,  indeed  I  did  1  " 
protested  Miss  Sharpe,  wringing  her  hands. 

'*'  Silence,  Miss  Sharpe  i  don  t  make  a  fool  of  yourself  1 
I'm  surprised  at  you  1  a  woman  of  your  years  giving  way  to 


i 


•-1I  %ar% 


202 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


h 


such  silly  fancies.  You  saw  it,  indeed  I  A  nice  'eacher  y(»^ 
are  to  watch  young  children  1  Return  to  your  beds,  yourg 
ladies ;  and  do  you,  Miss  Sharpe,  return  to  yours  ;  and  don't  let 
me  ever  hear  anything  more  about  ghosts,  or  I  shall  instanl'y 
dismiss  you.  Ghosts,  indeed  1  you're  a  downright  fool, 
Miss  Sharpe— that's  what  you  are  !  "  exclaimed  the  exas- 
perated lady. 

But  even  the  threat  of  dismissal  could  not  totally  overcome 
Miss  Sharpe's  fears  now,  and  catching  hold  of  Mrs.  Moodie's 
night-robe  as  she  was  turning  away,  she  wildly  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Moodie,  let  us  have  a  light  in  the  room  for 
this  night  at  least !  I  cannot  sleep  a  wink  unless  you  do." 

"  Miss  Sharpe,  hold  your  tongue  1  Do  you  see  how  you 
have  frightened  these  children  ?  Go  to  bed  and  mind  your 
business.  Young  ladies,  I  think  I  told  you  before  to  go  to 
your  rooms— did  I  not  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Moodie,  with  still  in- 
creasing anger. 

Tren.bling  and  terrified,  the  girls  scampered  like  frightened 
doves  back  to  their  nests ;  and  Mrs.  Moodie,  outraged  and  in- 
dignant, tramped  her  way  to  the  bed  she  had  so  lately  vacated, 
niwardly  vowing  to  discharge  Miss  Sharpe  as  soon  as  ever 
she  could  get  another  to  take  her  place. 

And  then  the  children  in  the  dormitory  crept  shivering 
into  bed,  and  wrapped  their  heads  up  in  the  bedclothes, 
trembling  at  every  sound.  And  Miss  Sharpe,  quivering  in 
dread,  shrunk  into  the  smallest  possible  space  in  hers,  and 
having  twisted  herself  into  a  round  ball  under  the  quilts, 
tightly  shut  her  eyes,  and  firmly  resolved  that  nothing  in  the 
earth,  or  in  the  waters  under  the  earth,  should  make  her  open 
those  eyes  again  that  night.  And  our  wicked  Firefly  chuck- 
ling inwardly  over  the  success  of  her  plot,  jumped  into  hers, 
thinking  of  the  fun  yet  to  come. 

An  hour  passed.  One  o'clock  struck ;  then  two,  before 
sleep-  began  to  visit  the  drowsy  eyelids  of  the  roused  slum- 
berers  again.  Having  assured  herself  that  they  had  really 
fallen  asleep  at  last,  Pet  sat  up  in  bed  softly,  opened  the  win- 
dow an  inch  or  two,  screened  from  view — had  any  one  been 
watching  her,  which  there  was  not— by  the  white  curtains 
of  the  bed. 

Then  lying  composedly  back  on  her  pillow,  she  took  hold 
of  her  string,  and  began  pulling  away. 


PET  BEGINS  HER  EDUCATION.  303 

Knock  1  knock  I  knock  1  knock!  Rap  I  rapl  rapl  rapl 

""^  The  clamor  was  deafening ;  the  music  was  awful  at  that  si- 
l.n^  hour  o7  the  nght.  Up  and  down  the  huge  brass  knock- 
If  thundered  waking  a    peal  of  echoes  that  rung  and  rung 

''once  IglinT  house  was  aroused ;  once  again  every  sleep- 
er?prun?out  of  bed,  in  terror,  wonder,  and  consternation 

.<  Oh  holy  saints  1  what  is  that  ?  Oh  good  heavens  1  what 
can  that  be  at  this  time?  "  came  simultaneously  from  every 

^^\nockl   knock  1    knock!    Rapl   rapl   rapl   louder  and 

^"^  Eve^' drl  flitted  from  her  room,  and  a  universal  rush  was 
madef^rfhe  apartments  of  Mrs.  Moodie-all  but  the  mmates 
^f  the  dormitory.  Miss  Sharpe  was  too  terrified  to  stir,  and 
1  chtldrTf Slowing  her  lead,  contented  themselves  with 
lying   stm,  aid   renewing  their  screams  where  they  had  left 

%^f  Mrsl^M^odi^  1^^^^^^^^^  out,  and  en- 

-r^Mr:  I^S^i^rC  Cen'd  to-night  ?  We 
-^^^^k^Sik^'kS^kSrknock.    The    clamor 

^^.!  ttaTb'etter  open  the  door,  or  they  will  break  it  down  1" 

said  Mrs.  Moodie,  her  teeth  chattering  ^^f^^^^J  ?,^-^^„^,3tec 
"  Send  for  Bridget ;  she  is  afraid  of  nothing !     suggestec 

in  the  door.  knocking  instantly 

Back  she    swung  it  with  a  J^'^f*  ^^^^^''Ig.^led  with  a 
ceased      Up  flew  the  poker,  and  down  it  descenaea  wiu 
ceasea.      ^y  "^  r^  T-up^p  was  ro  ntiC  there  1 

whack,  upon— vacancy  »    ^"^re  was  n     .^        ,  .    ^  Bridget, 
'«  The  Lord  be  between  us  an'  harm  I     exclaimea  unug    , 


-.«i>st»«"- 


smartrwrar 


904 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


r 


im. 


recoiling  back.     "  The  divil  a  one's  there,  good,  bad,  or  in- 
aiffennt! 

"  They  must  have  run  away  when  you  opened  the  door  I  " 
said  Mrs.  Moodie,  in  trembling  tones.  "  There  is  certainly 
some  one  there  I  "  '  ' 

Bridget  descended  the  steps,  and  looked  up  and  down  the 
street ;  but  all  was  silent,  lonely,  and  deserted— not  a  livinff 
creature  was  to  be  seen. 

"Come  in,  and  lock  the  door,"  said  the  appalled  Mrs. 
Moodie.  "  What  in  the  name  of  Heaven  could  it  have  been  ? " 
"  Oh,  the  house  is  haunted  I— the  house  is  haunted  1  "  came 
from  the  white  lips  of  the  young  ladies.  <'  Oh,Mrs.  Moodie  1 
do  not  ask  us  to  go  back  to  our  rooms.  We  dare  not.  Let 
us  stay  with  you  until  morning !  " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Moodie,  not  sorry  to  have  company  • 
"  come  into  my  room.     Bridget,  bring  lights."  ' 

The  door  was  unlocked.  The  friglSened  girls  hustled 
pale,  and  frightened,  and  shivering  with  superstition,  awe  and 
undehned  apprehension,  into  Mrs.  Moodie's  room  ;  whil^ 
that  lady  herself,  crouching  in  their  midst,  was  scarcely  less 
terrified  than  they.  Bridget  brought  in  lights ;  and  their 
coming  renewed  the  courage  the  darkness  had  totally 
q^iCnched.  ^ 

"  Now,  Mistress  Moodie,  ma'am,"  said  Bridget,  crossing 
her  arms  with  grim  determination,  "  I'm  goin'  to  sit  at  that 
door  till  mornin',  if  its  plazin'to  ye,  and  if  thim  blackguardly 
spalpeens  comes  knockin'  dacint  people  out  av  their  beds 
ag'in,  be  this  an'  that,  I'll  I've  the  mark  of  me  five  fingers  on 
thim,  as  sure  as  my  name's  Biddy  Malone !" 

"  Very  well,  Bridget,"  said  Mrs.  Moodie.  "  It  may  be  some 
wickedly-disposed  person  wishing  to  frighten  the  young 
ladies ;  and  if  it  is,  the  heaviest  penalties  of  the  law  shall  be 
inflicted  on  them." 

Arming  herself  with  the  poker,  Bridget  softly  turned  the 
key  in  the  door,  and  laid  her  hand  on  the  lock,  ready  to  open 
it  at  a  second's  notice. 

Scarcely  had  she  taken  her  stand,  when  knock !  knock  1 
It  began  again  ;  but  the  third  rap  was  abruptly  cut  short  by 
her^ violently  jerking  the  door  open,  and  lifting  the  poker  for 
a  blow  that  would  have  done  honor  to  Donnybrook  Fair. 
But  a  second  time  it  fell,  with  a  loud  crack,  upon— nothing  l 


i 


bad,  or  in- 

le  door  I  " 
s  certainly 

I  down  the 
Dt  a  living 


illed  Mrs. 
ve  been  ? " 
dl  "  came 
.  Moodie  I 
not.     Let 


company ; 

Is  hustled, 
I,  awe  and 
in  ;  while 
ircely  less 
and  their 
id   totally 

,  crossing 
sit  at  that 
:kguardly 
leir  beds 
fingers  on 

■  be  some 

le  young 
I  shall  be 

irned  the 
y  to  open 

1  knock  I 
short  by 
poker  for 
>ok  Fair, 
■nothing  I 


PET  BEGINS  HER  EDUCATION.  205 

Far  or  near,  not  a  soul  was  to  be  seen.  Bridget  was  dis- 
mayed. For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  a  sensation  of  terror 
filled  her  brave  Irish  heart.  Slamming  the  door  violently  o, 
she  locked  it  again,  and  rushed  with  open  eyes  and  mouth, 
into  the  room  where  the  terror-stricken  mistress  and  pupils 
sat  terrified  with  fear.  .       ,      ,  1 

-Faith,  it  s  the  divil  himself  that's  at  it  1  Lord,  pardon  me 
for  namin'  him  1  Och,  holy  martyrs  1  look  down  or,  us  this 
night  for  a  poor,  disconsolate  set  ov  craythers,  and  the  Cross 
of"  Christ  be  between  us  and  all  harm  1  " 

A^  d  dropping  a  little  bob  of  a  courtesy.  Bridge  devoutly 
cut  the  sigA  of  The  cross  on  her  forehead  with  her  thumb. 

Unable  to  speak  or  move  with  terror,  mistress,  pupils  and 
servants  crouched  together,  longing  and  praying   wildly  for 

""  a"  ain  t'he'knSking  commenced,  and  continued,  withotvt  in- 
terml  sion,  for  one  whole  mortal  hour.  Even  the  neighbors 
bJ^n  to  be  alarmed  at  the  unusual  din,  and  windows  were 
opened,  and  night-capped  heads  thrust  out  to  see  who  it  was 
Xo  knocked  sS  inces 'antly.  Three  o'clock  struck,  and  then 
Pet  beginning  to  feel  terribly  sleepy,  and  quite  sa  isfied  with 
the  fun  she  IkkI  had  all  night,  cut  the  cord,  and  drew  it  up. 
The  clamors,  of  course,  instantly  ceased  ;  and  five  minutes 
after,  Firefly,  the  wicked  cause  of  all  this  trouble,  was  peace- 

'"If  nother  eye  in  the  house  was  destined  to  close  that 
ni^^ht-or  rathei-:  morning.  Huddled  together  below,  the 
fri^rhtened  flock  waited  for  the  first  glimpse  of  morning  sun- 
li..ht,  thinking  all  the  while  that  never  was  there  a  night  so 
long  as  that  Up  in  the  children's  dormitory,  al -from 
M  fs  Sharpe  downward-lay  in  a  cold  perspiration  of  dread 
trembling  to  stay  where  they  were,  yet  not  daring  to  get  up 
and  join  their  companions  below.  ,r  1     1     ^  ;f  T 

"  I'll  never  stay  another  night  m  this  dreadful  place  it  1 
only  live  to  see  morning!  "  was  the  inward  exclamation  of 
every  teacher  and  pupil  who  could  by  any  means    eaye. 

And  so,  in  sleepless  watchfulness,  the  dark,  silent  hours 
of  morning  wore  on  ;  and  the  first  bright  ray  of  another 
dav's  sunlight  streaming  in  through  the  windows  never  be- 
h'dan  a-.mbla^e  of  paler  or  more  terrified  faces  than 
were  gathered  together  in  the  establishment  of  Mrs.  Moodie. 


nmsr 


•"••  ki«M 


so6 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


CHAPTER  XXH. 

PET    FINISHES    HER    EDUCATION. 

"  And  her  brow  cleared,  but  not  her  dauntless  eye  •        ' 
The  wind  was  down,  but  jtill  the  sea  ran  high." 

—Don  Juan. 

Accustomed  to  early  rising  from  her  infancy,  the  first 
beam  of  morning  sunshine  found  Pet  out  of  bed,  and  dressed. 

The  other  gn-ls,  with  Miss  Sharpe,  were  up,  too,  hastily 
throwing  on  their  clothes,  and  looking  pale,  haggard  and 
worn,  from    the  previous  night's   excitement   and    want   of 

_  Quivering  with  the  remembrance  of  last  night's  frolic  and 
the  terror  and  consternation  that  would  follow  it  to-dav  Pet 
stood  before  the  mirror  bathing  her  hands  and  face, 'and 
curling  her  short,  boyish,  black  ringlets. 

The  others  did  not  wait  for  this,  but  as  soon  as  they 
were  dressed  made  a  grand  rush  for  the  lower  rooms, 
where  they  knew  the  remainder  of  the  household  were  as- 
sembled. And  here  they  found  them,  still  in  their  night- 
robes  just  beginning  to  find  their  tongues,  and  venturing  to 

rnnir''  •  1  I  '^'"•"^  ^^^"^^  °^  ^^^  P^^^i^^s  night.     Pet- 
ronilla,  with  her  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  had  much  ado 

%r\ZlJ'T   '^"S'?'"g   outright    at   their    wild    eyes   and 
affrighted  whispers,  but  drawing  her  face  down  to  the  length 

termor  o'!,'  '^^}^^^^^  ^'''^y  ^^  volubly  as  any  of  them  of  her 
take  Lr  ?  r'  protesting  she  would  write  to  her  papa  to 

haun  pH  I  '""'  °V'''?'  '^'  ^^'"'"'^  accustomed  to  living  in 
the  vol  rr;-  ^'  "'''  becoming  aware  of  their  ^..^^l;//., 
the    young   ladies    decamped    ujvstairs   to  don   more    be- 

lZruLl7."T\'''''^  ''\^  °^^^'  '"  '^'  P"^^^y  °f  their  own 
apartments,  the  ghost  and  the  mysterious  rapping. 

with '?h.  °  '  '''Tf''.^  ^'^'  P'-esence  of  mind  and  dignity, 
ha^'nf  the  3?-^  of  daylight,  resolved  to  lose  no  time  Tn 
naxmg  the  maitci  luily  investigated.     Her  first  act  was  to 


neir  own 


PET  FINISHES  HER  EDUCATION.         207 

/uf.'^he  house  searched  from  top  to  bottom,  and  the  young 
u.    willingly  engaging  in  the  search,  every  corner,  cranny 
a      crevice,  fron,  tltic  to  cellar,   was  thoroughly  •-•xa'n.ned 
IHd  a   needle   been   lost  it   must  have  been   found,  but  no 
trice  of  last  night's  visitor  could  be  discovered. 

<'Oh,  it's   nS  use  looking;  it  was  a  ghost  1"  exclaimed 

''^n^';'^rit  was  a  ghost  1     It  must  have  been  a  ghost  1  " 
echoed  all  the  young  ladies  simultaneously 

-  But  ghosts  always  come  m  though  a  key-hole-a  lea.t 
the  ghosfs  up  our  way  do,"  said  Pet;  "so  where  was  the  use 
of  its  knocking  and  making  such  a  fuss  last  night. 

No  one  felt  themselves  qualified  to  answer  the  questions 
,0  the  hunt  was  given  over,  and  the  hunters,  in  niuch  dis- 
order, were  told  they  might  amuse  themselves  in  the   p  ay 
ground  that   morning,   instead  of  reciting,  '^^^/^^"^  '    ^^.';*: 
teachers  did  not  feel  themselves  able  to  pursue  their  custo- 
rSary -wocations  until  some  light  had  been  thrown  upon  the 

""  Then  Mrs.  Moodie  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  went 
out  without  any  definite  object  in  view  ""^^^^^ '^J^.^^^^  ^^";^ 
if  the  ghost  had  left  any  clue  to  its  whereabouts  on  the  street 
As  a  very  natural  consequence,  her  eye  turned  upon  the 
huge  brass  knocker  that  had  been  so  m^t^"";^"^^^  '"  '^f 
niglit's  din ;  and  from  it,  to  her  surprise,  she  beheld  a  long 
sto'utcord  dangling.  Petronilla,  of  course  »"  cu  tmg  the 
string,  could  not  reach  down  to  sever  it,  and  a  half-yard  01 
so  still  waved  in  triumph  in  the  morning  air. 

Mrs.  Moodie,  though  a  fine  lady,  was  sharp  and  w  de 
awake,"  and  in  this  cord  she  perceived  some  clue  to  the 
affair  if  the  previous  night.  As  she  ^^lU  gazed  on  it  n  the 
same  way  as  a  detective  might,  at  the  evidence  o  some  se 
rret  crime  the  young  girl  who  had  given  Pet  the  cord 
;;:led  rough  .L  Ji  fnd  paused  to  look  at  the  open  door 
which  Mrs.  Moodie  was  so  intently  surveying.  ""^^  ^f  J^^ 
on  the  cord  ;  she  started,  took  a  step  forward,  looking  puz- 
zled and  surprised.  .       ,  .  , 

.<  It  was  no  spirit,  you  see,  that  was  rapping  last  night 
Miss  Hughes,"  said  Mrs.  Moodie,   sharply  ;"  this  cord  has 
had  something  to  do  with  it."   _  _  „  ^^.^  ^^^ 

"  Why,  that  cord  is  mine — ui  lain^i  .^f*-,    j        .-r* 


M 


Txyr 


3o8 


THK  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


.^! 


for 


lady,  examinmg  >t;    "we  used  to  use  it  in  our  room 
hangmg  pocket-handkerchiefs  and  collars  to  dry  on  '' 

^^  yours,  Miss  Hughes,"  said   Mrs.   Moodie,  facing  round 
with  an  angry  light  rising  in  her  eyes.  ^  ^ 

nnni!^  T'  ".""''.  "'^'?^"' '  ^  ^^^^  '^  ^^'^  evening  to  the  new 
pupil,  Miss  L.jwless.  '  ** 

"  To  Miss  l.avtless  ?" 
J^  ^t"'  1'"'''*'^'  '^''^"  "^^  "^^'^  '"  t'^e  dormitory  last  night 

:!^-r:^i.';:/cuur  i^e '^'  ^  '^--^^^  ^-  ^^^^'  ^-^"^- 

"  What  did  Miss  Lawless  want  of  it-do  you  know  >  " 

it  can  t^got  i;:rL''"  '''  "°^  ^'^^'  '^  '^  '"^^  ^^-"^^  ^^o- 
A  new  light  suddenly  flashed  through  the  mind  of  Mrs 
Moodie.     She  recollected  what  Pet's  father  haTltoklh.r.; 
the  mischief-loving  propensities  of  tljyoung    ady       Vh 

glanced  up  at  the  window  beside  Pefs  bed,   and  inst-  tanp. 
ously  the  whole  truth  dawned  upon  her.  ^n^t-  -^ane- 

And  then  a  change  most  wonderful  to  see  came  rvpr  tha 
features  of  Mrs.  Moodie.     Dark  and  stern    and  detemned 

rtt/;;nt^th7hc:r^°^'  -^^^^  ^'^  -^--^  -^^^ 

teaXrs\n^"n'''i''?'''  ^^''^^  ^^rtly,  "go  and   tell    all    the 

think   Jh-T^f  to  assemble  in  the   school-room  at  once. 

I^t^hink   I  have   found   out  the   origin    of  the  disturbance 

Wondering  and  perplexed,  Miss  Hughes  went  and  de- 
livered her  message  ;  and  on  fire  with  eager  cuHos  ty  a  un^ 
iversal  rush  was  made  for  the  ,/asse,  and  in  silen  expectation 
they  waited  for  the  coming  of  Mrs.  Moodie  ^^P^^^'-^^'^" 

fh.;  ,  ^  not  long  to  wait.     With  a  hard,  metallic  tramp 

that  announced  her  state  of  mind,  that  lady  rustled   in  Tnd 
in  ominous  silence  took  her  seat,  motioning  the  Xrs  to  re 
sume  theirs  with  a  wave  of  her  hand 

her^'tiff  X'^f  '''"'  "P^'i.'^"'"  '"  ^'^^"t  ^^^'  as  they  noticed 
IJk.  !  N  ^i  sternness.  Her  eye  passed  over  the  rest  and 
bke  a  hound  scenting  nis  prey,    fixed  itself  piercingly   on 

"  come'L^'"^^^^^  '''^'  ^"   ^^*^^"^'    "measured    tone, 


PET  FINISHEwS  HER  EDUCATION.         200 

"Stars  and  stripes! "' ejaculated  Pet,  inwardly,  as  she 
rose  to  obey  ;  "  can  she  have  found  me  out  so  soon  ?  Oh, 
Pet  Lawless,  m^ybe  you  ain't  in  for  i.  now  1  " 

All  eyes  werr  now  turned  in  •  k'  '  amazement  on  Pet. 
Slowly  Mrs.  M-.odie  tluust  her  hand  in  her  pocket,  sull 
-.lernly  iransfixuu:  Pet  with  her  eyes,  and  drew  out— a  piece 

of  cord  I  ,      ,  J. 

At  the  sight  rill  Pet's  ,:  nbts  were  removed  ;  sh'  was  dis- 
covered. Then  all  personal  apprehensions  vanished,  her 
perverse  spirit  rose,  and  bold,  dauntless  and  daring  she 
stood  before  her  stern  judge— her  straight,  lithe  form  de- 
fiantly erect,  her  malicious  black  eyes  dancing  with  fun. 

"  Miss  Lawless,  do  you  know  anything  of  this  ? "  demanded 
Mrs.  Moodie,  holding  it  up.  ■  ,      , 

"  Slightly  acquainted,"  said  Pet ;  "  saw   it  last  night   for 

the  first  time." 

"  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  state  for  what  purpose  you 

borrowed  it  ?  " 

"  Yes'm,  to  have  some  fun  with." 

"  Fun  !  pray  be  a  little  more  explicit.  Miss  Lawless.  Was 
it  you  that  tied  it  to  the  door,  last  night  ? " 

"  Yes'm." 

"  And  by  that  means  vou  knocked  at  thi  door,  and  cre- 
ated all  the  alarm  and  confusion  that  so  terrified  us  all," 
said  Mrs.Moodie  with  a  rapidly  darkening  brow. 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Pet,  loudly,  nothing  daunte  1. 

A  low  murmur  of  surprise  and  horror,  a^  this  atrocious 
confession  ran  round  the  room. 

"Ant'  what  was  your  design  in  thus  throwing  the  house- 
hold into  terror  and  consternation.  Miss  Lawle;  s?  " 

"  I  told  you  before— just  for  fun,"  said  Pet,  rx^olly, 

Mrs.  Moodie  compressed  her  lips,  and  thougii  her  sallow 
face  was  dark  with  suppressed  anger,  she  remaii  ed  outward- 
ly calm.  Low  murmurs  of  amazement,  anger  and  indig- 
nation ran  through  the  room  ;  but  Pet  stood  uuight,  bold 
and  defiant  before  them  all,  as  though  she  had  d  ne  nothing 
whatever  to  be  ashamed  of.  •     1    •  1 

"  Perhaps,  then,  since  you  are  so  fond  of  practical  jokes, 
you  were  the  ghost  Miss  Sharpe  saw,  likewise,'  said  Mrs. 
Moodie. 

"  Yes,  I  was,"  said  Pet,  darting  a  flashing  glan.  a  at  that 


•Ut!&ill  i'  9  ^Wlt 


'31  wn 


2IO 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


lady,  who  sat  listening,  with  hand  and  eyes  uplifted  in  hor- 
ror. 

"  No,  she  wasn't,"  said  Miss  Sharpe ;  "  the  one  I  saw 
was  all  on  fire." 

"  Silence,  Miss  Sharpe !  leave  the  matter  to  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Moodie,  sternly.  Then  turning  to  Pet :  "  Since  yoo 
are  so  candid,  Miss  Lawless,  will  you  inform  me  in  what 
manner  you  rendered  yourself  so  frightful  an    object  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  easy  enough,"  said  Pet.  "  I  just  rubbed 
some  phosphureted  ether  on  my  hands  and  face.  It  shone 
in  the  dark  and  scared  her ;  and  that  was  all  I  wanted." 

A  profound  silence  for  one  moment  reigned  throughout 
the  room.  Every  one  sat,  overwhelmed,  looking  at  each 
other  as  though  unable  to  credit  what  they  heard. 

"  And  what  evil  motive  had  you  in  terrifying  us  so  ? " 
resumed  Mrs.  Moodie,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  hadn't  any  evil  motive.  I  just  wanted  fun,  I  tell  you. 
Papa  sent  me  here,  and  I  didn't  want  to  come,  but  I  had  to ; 
so,  as  it  was  horrid  dull  here,  I  thought  I'd  just  amuse  my- 
self scaring  you  all,  and  I  can't  see  where  was  the  harm 
either  1  I've  always  been  used  to  do  as  I  like,  and  this 
ain't  no  circumstance  to  what's  to  come  next !  "  And  Pet's 
flashing  eyes  blazed  open  defiance. 

Mrs.  Moodie  rose  from  her  seat,  her  sallow  complexion 
almost  white  with  anger,  her  sharp  eyes  bright  with  an  an- 
gry light. 

"  Some  one  else  will  have  a  voice  in  this  matter.  Miss 
Lawless.  Had  I  been  aware  of  the  sort  of  girl  you  were, 
rest  assured  that,  much  as  I  respect  your  father,  you  should 
never  have  entered  here.  In  all  my  experience  it  has  never 
been  my  misfortune  to  encounter  so  much  depravity  in  one 
so  young.  I  shall  instantly  write  to  your  father  to  come  and 
take  you  home,  for  no  inducement  could  persuade  me  to 
allow  you  to  become  a  member  of  this  establishment.  You 
will  consider  yourself  expelled.  Miss  Lawless,  and  must 
leave  the  house  as  soon  as  your  father  can  come  to  take  you 
home." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Pet,  impatiently ; 
**  for  of  all  the  stupid  old  holes  I  ever  saw,  this  is  the  worst  I 
I  wouldn't  be  paid  to  stay  here — no,  not  if  you  were  to 
make  me  President  to-morrow  for  it." 


one  I  saw 


And  Pet's 


PET  FINISHES  HER  EDUCATION.         211 

««  No  such  inducement  is  likely  to  be  offered,  Miss  Law- 
less. Your  presence  here,  I  can  assure  you,  is  not  coveted. 
Miss  Sharpe,  take  this  young  lady  to  one  of  the  spare 
rooms,  and  remain  there  to  watch  her  until  her  father  comes 
and  removes  her.  Young  ladies,  you  will  now  resume  your 
studies  as  usual." 

And  with  a  frigid  bow,  Mrs.  Moodie  swept  from  the  room, 
leaving  all  behind  her  lost  in  a  maze  of  wonder  and  indig- 
nation. .        .  , 

Miss  Sharpe,  with  her  little  eyes  glistenmg,  approached 
and  took  Pet  by  the  shoulder,  to  lead  her  from  the  room, 
but  Pet  angrily  jerked  herself  free  from  her  hated  touch, 

and  exclaimed :  ,    ,        i- 

"Let  me  alone  1  I  can  walk  without  your  help.  Oo 
ahead  and  I'll  follow,  but  keep  your  hands  to  yourself." 

Miss  Sharpe,  finding  herself  foiled  even  in  the  moment 
of  victory,  walked  sullenly  on,  and  Pet,  with  head  up  and 
elbows  squared,  tripped  after  her  to  the  solitude  of  "  one  of 
the  spare  rooms,"  where  every  amusement  was  debarred  her 
but  that  of  making  faces  at  Miss  Sharpe. 

An  hour  after,  a  long  epistle,  detailing  in  glowmg  colors 
Pet's  wicked  actions  of  the  night  before,  was  dispatched  by 
Mrs.  Moodie  to  Judge  Lawless. 

The  result  of  it  was,  that  the  evening  of  the  second  day 
after,  that  gentleman  arrived,  nearly  beside  himself  with  rage. 
Then  Mrs.  Moodie  recapitulated  the  whole  affair,  and 
ended  by  protesting  that  no  amount  of  money  could  prevail 
upon  her  to  keep  so  vicious  a  child  in  her  school  another 
day.  All  her  pupils  would  become  depraved  by  her  ex- 
ample ;  and  the  result  would  be,  their  parents  would  take 
them  home,  and  thus  she  would  lose  her  school.  Judge 
Lawless  haughtily  replied  she  need  be  under  no  apprehen- 
sion, for  he  would  instantly  take  his  daughter  home. 

Pet  was  accordingly  dressed,  her  baggage  packed  up,  and 
brought  down  to  her  father. 

With  all  her  boldness  she  yielded  for  a  moment  as  she 
met  his  eye.  But  without  one  single  word  of  comment,  he 
motioned  her  to  precede  him  into  the  carriage ;  and  in  si- 
lence they  started. 

During  the  whole  journey  home,  the  judge  never  con- 
descended  to  open  his  mouth  or  address  her  a  single  word. 


Ill 


»<&•»)& 


Tor 


-3Awn 


212 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


Pet,  just  as  well  pleased  to  be  left  to  herself,  leaned  back  in 
the  carriage  to  meditate  new  mischief  when  she  would  get 
home. 

But  Miss  Petronilla  Lawless  soon  found  she  was  not  quite 
so  much  her  own  mistress  as  she  thought. 

The  evening  of  the  second  day  brought  them  to  Judes- 
town.  As  they  passed  the  village,  entered  the  forest  road, 
and  came  within  sight  of  old  Barrens  Cottage,  Pet  began  to 
think  of  Ray  and  wonder  how  he  was,  and  if  it  would  be 
safe  to  ask  her  father  to  let  her  go  in  and  see. 

One  glance  at  that  gentleman's  face,  however,  convinced 
her  that  it  would  not  be  safe,  and  that  prudence  was  by  far 
the  safest  plan  just  then.  Hoping  Erminie  might  be  at  the 
door  a^  she  passed,  she  thrust  her  head  out  of  the  carriage 
window,  when  her  father  silently  caught  her  by  the  shoulder, 
pulled  her  back  with  no  gentle  hand,  and  shut  down  the 
blind. 

Then  the  very  demon  of  defiance  sprung  into  the  eyes  of 
of  the  elf;  and  facing  round,  she  was  about  to  begin  a 
harangue  more  spirited  then  respectful ;  but  something  in 
the  cold,  stern,  steely  eye  bent  on  her  quenched  the  indig- 
nant light  in  her  own  and  she  sulkily  relapsed  into  silence, 
thinking  a  "  dumb  devil  "  would  be  more  agreeable  to  her 
father  just  then  than  a  talking  one. 

Ranty  was  out  on  the  veranda,  walking  up  and  down  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  whistling  "  Yankee  Doodle." 
Pet  favored  him  with  a  nod  as  she  tripped  into  the  house, 
while  Ranty's  eyes  grew  as  large  as  two  full  moons  in  hif; 
amazement.  Darting  after  her,  he  caught  her  by  the  arm  as 
she  was  entering  the  door  and  exclaimed  : 

"  I  say.  Pet ;  what  in  the  world  brings  you  home  again  ? 
I  thought  you  were  gone  to  school  1  " 

"  So  I  was." 

"  Then  why  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  Finished  my  education.  Told  you  I  would  in  a  week," 
said  Pet,  with  a  nod. 

"  Randolph,  go  off  and  mind  your  business,  sir,"  exclaimed 
his  father,  sternly.     "  Here — this  way,  youy 

So  saying  he  caught  Pet  by  the  shoulder,  and  uncere- 
moniously drew  her  after  him,  upstairs  into  the  library. 
Then  shutting  the  door,  he  threw  himself  into  his  arm-chair. 


LiXiaatiifa-iiig'H'iii  m 


PET  FINISHES  HER  EDUCATION.         213 

and  folding  his  arms  across  his  chest,  favored  Pet  with  an 

awful  look.  ,  .      ,  ,  .  1 

Miss  Lawless,  standing  erect  before  him,  bore  this  appal- 
ling stare  without  blushing. 

"  Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  yourself  now,  Miss  Pet- 
ronilla  Lawless,"  was  the  first  question  he  deigned  to  ask  her 
since  their  meeting, 

"  Just  what  I  did  before,"  said  Pet,  nothing  daunted. 

"  And  what  may  that  be,  pray  ?  "  said  her  father,  with  an 

icy  sneer. 

"  Why,  that  I'm  a  real  smart  little  girl,  and  can  keep  my 
word  like  a  man  !  I  said  I'd  finish  my  education  and  be 
back  in  a    week,  and— here  I  am." 

A  dark  frown  settled  on  the  brow  of  the  judge,  as  he  lis- 
tened to  this  audacious  reply  ;  but,  maintaining  an  outer 
semblance  of  calmness,  he  asked : 

"  And  how  have  you  determined  to  spend  your  time  for 
the  future.  Miss  Lawless  ?  " 

"  Just   as  I    did   before— riding   round  and    visiting  my 

friends." 

A  chilling  smile  settled  on  the  lips  of  the  judge. 

"  So  that  is  your  intention,  is  it  ?     Well,  now  hear  mme. 
Since  you  will  neither  stay  at  school  nor  behave  yourseK  as 
a  young  lady  should  when  at  home,  I  shall  sell  your  pony 
and  procure  you  a  tutor  who  will  be  your  teacher  and  guard 
at  the  same  time.     Whenever  you  move  from  the  house, 
either  he  or  I  will  accompany  you  ;  and  I  shall  take  proper 
steps  to  prevent  your   visiting   any  of  those  you  call  your 
friends.     You   will   find.  Miss  Lawless,   I    am    not    to    be 
disobeyed  with  impunity  in  the  future.     Perhaps,  after  a  time, 
if  I  find  you  docile  and  attentive  to  my  orders,  I  may  forget 
your  past  misconduct  and  restore  you  some  of  your  privi- 
leges   again.     This,    however,    will  entirely  depend  on  the 
manner  in  which  you  conduct  yourself.     I  have  already  a 
gentleman  in  view  who  will  undertake  the  office  of  tutor,  and 
until  he  comes  I  shall  have  you  locked  in  your  room  and 
your  meals  brought  up  to  you.     Not  a  word,   Miss  Lawless. 
I  have  borne  with  your  impertinence  too  long,  and  you  will 
now   find  1  '^nn  adopt  a  different  course.     Solitude  will  cool 
your  blood,  I  trust,  and  bring  you  to  your  senses." 


"iLjrf' 


214 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i  ,  ir. 


"I  ' 


■1: 


So  saying,  the  judge  calmly  arose,  rung  the  bell  and  then 
reseated  himself. 

You  should  have  seen  how  Pet  stormed  and  raved,  and 
scolded,  then,  vowing  she  would  kill  herself ;  she  would 
jump  out  of  the  window ;  she  would  set  the  house  afire  and 
burn  them  all  in  their  beds  ;  she  would  have  no  tutor ;  she 
would  murder  him  if  he  came. 

The  judge  listened  to  all  this  with  the  most  perfect  in- 
difference, until  the  entrance  of  a  negress  put  an  end  to  the 
scene. 

"  Take  Miss  Petronilla  up-stairs  to  the  attic,  and  lock  her 
in,"  was  the  judge's  command. 

But  he  soon  found  this  was  easier  said  than  done ;  for, 
seizing  a  small  chair,  Pet  brandished  it  over  her  head,  and 
threatened  instant  annihilation  to  the  first  who  would  come 
near  her. 

The  judge  arose,  and  with  a  sudden  snatch  caught  hold  of 
it.  Pet  clung  to  it  like  a  hero,  scolding  and  vociferating  at 
the  top  of  her  lungs  still ;  but  she  was  as  a  fly  in  her  father's 
grasp,  and  she  was  speedily  disarmed  and  pinned. 

"  I  will  bring  her  up  myself.  Stand  out  of  the  way.  Dele," 
said  the  judge. 

Holding  her  firmly,  the  judge  drew  her  with  him  up-stairs, 
opened  the  attic  door,  thrust  her  in,  locked  it,  and  left  Miss 
Pet  in  solitude  and  darkness,  and  to  her  own  reflections. 

There  was  no  window  in  the  attic,  so  her  threat  of  casting 
herself  from  it  went  for  naught.  As  for  her  other  threats, 
the  judge  paid  about  as  much  attention  to  them  as  he  would 
to  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  on  the  window.  He  then  mounted  his 
horse,  and  rode  off  having  given  orders  that  Miss  Petron- 
illa's  meals  should  be  regularly  brought  to  her,  but  on  no 
condition  should  she  be  allowed  to  get  out. 

Pet,  for  once  fairly  conquered,  sat  down,  determined  to  do 
something  desperate ;  and  in  this  frame  of  mind  she  was 
discovered  by  Ranty,  who,  hearing  of  her  melancholy  fate, 
came  up-stairs  and  took  his  station  outside  the  door. 

"  Hillo,  Pet !  "  he  began. 

"  Hillo,  yourself,"  replied  Pet,  sulkily. 

"  You're  locked  up — ain't  you  ?  "  went  on  Ranty. 

"  Where's  your  eyes  ?  Can't  you  see  1  am  ?  "  snapped 
Pet. 


THE  ADOPTED  DAUGHTER. 


315 


ell  and  then 


and  lock  her 


«  Well,  you  know  it  serves  you  right,"  said  Ranty,  by  way 
of  consolation,  as  he  took   out   a   jack-knife  and  began  to 

"  Oh !  if   I  was  only  out  at  him,"  muttered  Pet,  between 

her  teeth.  _      .  , 

''You  haven't  seen  Ermmie  smce  you  came  home,  1  sup- 
pose," said  Ranty. 

"  No,  I  haven't  1     You  know  very  well  I   haven  t,     said 

Pet,  crissly.      "HowVRay?"  i   .-.   „ 

"  Oh  he's  first-rate— up  and  about.  His  wound  didn  t 
amount  to  much.  I'm  going  over,  there  now  ;  got  any  mes- 
sage to  send  ?  "  ^  ^         ^ 

-No;  only  to  bid  them  good-by.  I  never  expect  to  see 
any  of  them  again,"  said  Pet,  with  a  deep  groan. 

<'  Why  where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Ranty,  in  surprise. 

"To  commit    suicide.     Do   you  know  if  choking   hurts 

much,  Ranty  ?  "  j,     .u     •  .- 

"  Can't  say— never  tried  it.  If  it's  an  easy  death,  ]us» 
let  me  know  when  you've  done  it.  I'm  off."  And  Rantj 
decamped,  whistling;  and  Pet  was  left  locked  up  in  th* 
garret. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    ADOPTED    DAUGHTER. 

•'  A  brow  whose  frowns  are  vastly  grand 
And  eye  of  star-lit  brightness  : 
A  swan-like  n^ck,  and  arm  and  hand 
Of  most  bewitching  whiteness. ' '— Prakd. 

And  now,  reader,  are  you  willing  to  retrace  your  st«ps 
with  me,  and  go  back  to  those  we  left  behind,  long  ago,  m 

England  ?  ,  „  ,        -i 

The  sudden  death  of  the  Earl  De  Courcy  fell  heavily  on 
the  hearts  of  Lord  ViUiers  and  Lady  Maude;  but  they 
mourned  as  those  on  whom  the  heaviest  blow  Fate  can  bestow 
has  already  fallen,  and  all  other  griefs  seemed  light  in  com- 

^^The"servants  spoke  of  the  dark,  shrouded   figure  who  had 


1  ■ 


_..-^ 


•niifMi 


'"I  Oi 


216 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


;•«• 


been  seen  to  enter  but  never  depart ;  but  as  it  was  evident 
the  earl  had  died,  and  not  been  murdered,  no  suspicion  was 
attached  to  this.  And  so,  with  stately  pomp  and  ceremony, 
Hugh  Seyton,  fourth  Earl  De  Courcy,  was  laid  to  rest  in  the 
family  vault,  and  Lord  Villiers  took  the  title,  and  was  now 
rifth  Earl  De  ("ourcy. 

In  the  bustle  of  the  funeral,  and  the  duties  of  his  elevated 
station  he  found  means  to  withdraw  his  mind  at  times  from  the 
loss  of  his  child  ;  but  his  lovely  countess  mourned  still,  and 
"  would  not  be  comforted." 

Had  she  been  assured  of  Erminie's  death,  she  would  have 
grieved,  it  is  true :  but  not  as  she  grieved  now.  Had  she 
beheld  her  beautiful  child  laid  in  the  grave,  she  would  have 
mourned  ;  but  not  with  mourning  like  this. 

What  had  been  her  fate  >  Was  she  living  or  dead  ?  in- 
to whose  hands  had  she  fallen  ?  What  would  be  her  future 
fate? 

Night  and  day,  these  thoughts  were  ever  uppermost  in  her 
mind,  darkening  her  very  soul  with  anguish  and  despair. 
Enormous  rewards  had  been  offered  for  the  slightest  clue  to 
her  abductor ;  for  upward  of  a  year,  the  keenest  detectives 
in  England  were  put  on  the  track.  Bnt  all  was  in  vain. 
The  wide  sea  rolled  between  parents  and  child,  and  as  well 
might  they  looked  for  last  year's  snow  as  for  lost  Erminie. 
And  so  at  last  the  search  was  given  up  in  despair ;  the  sen- 
sation it  had  created  died  away  ;  the  circumstance  was  al- 
most forgotten  by  all  but  the  bereaved  parents.  But  they 
—oh  I  never  could  they  forget  sweet,  blue-eyed  little  Erniinie'l 
While  the  search  continued.  Lady  Maude  had  hoped.  Day 
after  day  passed,  and  no  tidings  were  brought  her  of  the 
lost  one ;  but  still  she  wildly  hoped.  Month  after  month 
waned  away ;  no  trace  of  her  child  could  be  discovered,  and 
still  she  madly  hoped.  Each  day  she  rose  with  beating  heart, 
at  the  thought  that  perhaps  before  night  sweet  Erminie  might 
be  restored.  Every  passing  footstep  sent  a  thrill  to  her 
heart,  in  the  anticipation  that  it  might  be  the  bearer  of  the 
glad  tidings.  Through  all  the  long,  weary  months  of  vain 
watchmg  and  waiting,  she  had  hoped  against  hope  until  the 
last. 

But  now — now  when  the  search  was  given  over  in  despair 
— came  the  full  realization  of  her  utter  bereavement.     Then 


THE  ADOPTED  DAUGHTER. 


917 


was  evident 
ispicion  was 


the  mortal  anguish  and  despair  she  had  long  struggled 
against  overwhelmed  her  soul ;  and,  hating  the  sunlight,  the 
gfad  earth,  and  bright  sky  above,  she  buried  herself  in 
deepest  mourning,  shut  out  the  light  from  her  room,  and,  in 
silence  and  darkness,  still  mourned  for  her  lost  one,  and 
''  would  not  be  comiOrted." 

On  the  heart  of  her  husband  th^  blow  had  fallen  no  less 
heavily ;  but  crushing  back  his  bitter  sorrow  to  his  own  noble 
heart,  he  calmed  himself  to  console  her.  Of  all  her  friends 
of  all  who  loved  her,  she  would  admit  no  one  to  her  pres- 
ence but  him  ;  and  folded  to  his  heart,  she  sat  for  hours, 
day  after  day,  white,  still,  cold,  and  silent.  When  he  left 
her,  she  threw  herself  on  her  couch,  and,  in  the  same 
strange  stupor,  remained  there  until  he  came  back. 

At  first,  he  had  permitted  Nature  to  have  her  way,  think- 
ing her  sc-Tow  would  be  less  enduring  if  left  to  wear  itself 
out ;  but  when  months  and  months  passed,  and  no  change 
came,  and  he  saw  her  growing  whiter  and  more  fragile  day 
after  day,  he  began  to  think  it  was  time  something  els^  was 
done  to  rouse  her  from  this  destroying  grief. 

"  Maude,  Maude  1  this  is  wrong — this  is  sinful  1  "  he  said, 
holding  her  little  wan  hands,  and  looking  sadly  down  into 
the  white,  cold  face.  "  This  rebellious  murmuring  must 
not  be  indulged  longer.  Dearest  Maude,  rouse  yourself 
from  this  trance  of  despair,  and  remember  our  Erminie 
is  in  the  hands  of  One  who  '  doeth  all  for  the  best.'  He 
who  noteth  even  the  fall  of  a  sparrow  will  protect  our  angel 

child." 

A  shiver,  a  shadow,  a  fluttering  of  the  heart,  and  that  was 
all.     No  words  came  from  the  pale  lips. 

"  Have  faith,  sweet  wife,  and  trust  in  God.  Overcome 
tUis  selfish  grief,  and  remember  there  still  remain  many  for 
you  to  love  — many  who  love  you.  Live  for  them,  my  own 
Maude  ;  live  for  me ;  live  for  the  heaven  where  our  Erminie 
has  gone." 

"  Oh,  my  child  I  my  child  I  Would  to  God  I  had  died 
for  thee !  "  broke  in  a  passionate  cry  from  the  white  lips  of 
the  mother. 

The  manly  chest  of  Lord  De  Courcy  rose  and  fell ;  the 
muscles  of  his  face  twitched  for  a  moment   convuiSi'i 
his  arms  strained  her  in  a  closer  clasp. 


)?'•"!? '  t  ue  ! 


3l8 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"  Our  child  prays  for  her  mother  in  heaven.  Grieve  not 
for  her,  dear  love.     And  am  I  not  left  to  you  still  ? " 

"  Oh  1  it  was  my  fault — it  was  my  fault  1  I  left  her  alone, 
helpless  and  unprotected,  while  I  was  enjoying  myself  down- 
stairs. There  was  no  one  to  watch  her — no  one  to  save  her. 
All  were  gone,  and  she  was  left  to  perish  1  Oh,  my  child  1 
my  child !  " 

No  words  can  describe  the  agony,  the  remorse,  the  undy- 
ing despair  of  her  tones,  so  full  of  a  mother's  utmost  woe. 
Then  blessed  tears  came  to  her  relief  and,  bowing  her  head 
on  her  husband's  shoulder,  she  wept  convulsively. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  shed  a  tear  since  the  loss  of 
her  child.  Lord  De  Courcy  hailed  this  as  a  favorable  symp- 
tom, and  permitted  her  to  weep,  undisturbed,  until  the  very 
violence  of  her  grief  had  exhausted  itself ;  and  then  raising 
her  head,  and  smoothing  back  ♦^he  dark  curls  from  her  high, 
pale  brow,  he  said,  softly  : 

"  My  Maude  is  morbid  in  her  grief.  She  has  nothing  to 
reproach  herself  with.  Since  Heaven  willed  we  should  loss 
one  angel  it  gave  us,  is  it  not  our  duty  to  be  resigned  ? " 

"  Oh  !  if  she  had  died — if  I  knew  she  were  sleeping 
quietly  in  her.  grave,  I  could  be  re&.gned.  But  this  dread- 
ful uncertainty  is  killing  me.  Oh,  Ernest !  since  God  gave 
me  two  children  to  love,  why  has  He  decreed  I  should  lose 
them  both  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  since  her  marriage  she  had  spoken 
of  that  other  child  ;  and,  for  one  instant,  Lord  De 
Courcy's  brew  grew  dark  at  the  unpleasant  memories  it 
brought  back.  The  shadow  was  gone  as  quickly  as  it  came  ; 
and,  stooping  down,  he  pressed  a  kiss  on  her  brow,  as  he 
replied : 

"  He  knows  best,  love.  If  He  has  given  us  griefs,  was  He 
not  a  sufferer  of  sonow  himself  ?  Rouse  yourself  from  this 
lethargy  of  grief,  Maude.  Does  it  console  you  to  make 
those  around  you  wretched?  For,  Maude,  I  can  not  tell 
you  how  much  it  adds  to  my  grief — how  miserable  it  makes 
all  those  who  love  you,  to  see  you  yield  to  this  lethargy  of 
despair.  Do  you  think  I  do  not  feel  the  loss  of  our  beauti- 
ful child  ?  And  yet,  Maude,  I  do  not  give  way  to  this  utter 
abandon  of  despair,  because  1  know  it  is  positively  wrong. 
There  is  a  sort  of  luxury  in  yielding  to  grief,  and  permitting 


THE  ADOPTED  DAUGHTER. 


319 


it  to  have  its  way  ;  but  it  is  an  essentially  selfish  luxury; 
and  1  trust  my  Maude  will  view  it  in  its  proper  light,  and 
nrav  for  a  more  Christian  spirit." 

-Forgive  me,  my  husband,"  she  softly  murmured. 
«  Bear  with  me  a  little  longer.  1  know  I  am  weak  and  re- 
bellious ;  but  oh  1  there  never  was  sorrow  like  unto  mine  1 

But  from  that  day,  a  change  was  manifest  in  Lady  Maude. 
Loving  her  husband  with  almost  adoring  worship,  for  his 
sake  she  strove  to  shake  off  the  "  luxury  of  grief  he  had 
spoken  of,  and  resume  her  place  in  the  world  as  before.  At 
first  the  trial  was  hard— almost  too  hard  for  her  to  benr,  but 
his  pleasant  smile,  his  thrilling  whisper  of  thanks,  the  earnest 
pressure  of  his  hand,  told  her  her  efforts  were  understood 
and  appreciated,  and  more  than  rewarded  hei  for  the  sac- 
rifice she  had  made. 

And  thus  five  years  glided  away,  unmarked  by  any  event 

worth  recording.  iwio^ 

The  young  Earl  De  Courcy  as  a  statesman  and  politician, 
had  become  a  demigod  with  the  public,  and  one  of  the  lead- 
in-  men  of  the  day.  In  the  whirl  of  busy  life,  in  the  mael- 
stfom  of  politics,  little  Erminie  was  not  forgotten,  but  her 
memory  had  grown  to  be  a  sweet,  haunting  shadow  of  the 
past— a  tender,  beautiful  recollection,  that  came  to  him  like 
a  strain  of  sweet  music  heard  amid  the  discordant  crash 
and  din  of  the  busy  world.  He  thought  of  her  now  as  an  an- 
gel-visitar/,  sent  to  smile  on  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
taken  back  to  the  heaven  from  which  she  had  come,  to  pray 

for  him  there.  ^     ^  1,    1   „i  ,^ 

The  intense  sorrow  of  the  Countess  De  Courcy  had  also 
been  subdued  and  rendered  far  less  poignant  by  time,     bhe 
too,  hed  been  obliged,  by  her  elevated  position,  to  resume 
that  place  in  the  fashionable  world  she  was  so  we  1  fitted  to 
fill      But  when  in  the  glittering  assembly,  the  brilliant  ball 
the  gorgeous  pageant,  was  sweet,   lost  Erminie  forgotten? 
Never  ?     Outwardly,  that  one  great  sorrow  had  left  its  traces 
still  in  the  deeper  pallor  of  th(   '  wely  face,  in  the  subdued 
light  of  the  large,  melancholy  u.rk  eyes,  in  the   soft,  tender 
smile  that  seemed  something  holy  as  it  hovered  around  the 
sweet,  beautiful  lips.     It   had   made   her  a   gentler,  better 
woman.  With  a  heart  ever  meiung  at  uic^tj  Gta...,--,  ■■■■-  - 
hand  ever  ready  to  relieve  it.     It  had  humbled  her  pride; 


'■ 


yf  !  wi  ? 


•Tit  %tt% 


2  20 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


!r, 


it  had  elevated  her  soul ;  it  had  made  her  gentle,  tender,  and 
more  saintly  then  ever  befor.  Her  love  for  children  amount- 
ed almost  to  a  passion ;  those  ''  human  flowers,"  as  some 
one  prettily  calls  them,  could  at  any  time  arrest  her  attention, 
and  make  her  forget  all  else.  Not  a  child  among  all  the 
earl's  tenantry  that  had  not  received  proof  of  her  affection, 
in  the  shape  of  creature-comforts  and  even  as  she  idolized 
children,  so  was  she  invariably  loved  by  them  in  return. 

The  country  seat  of  the  De  Courcys  was  a  hne  old  man- 
sion, embowered  in  trees,  with  splendid  parks,  fine  pre- 
serves, and  surrounded  by  beautiful  scenery.  Here,  with 
their  friends,  the  earl  and  countess  were  in  the  habit  of  go- 
ing each  summer,  to  spend  a  few  weeks ;  and  here  the  hap- 
piest moments  of  Lady  Maude  were  spent,  wandering  through 
the  dim  old  woods,  where  she  could  dream,  undisturbed,  of 
her  lost  darling. 

Taking  her  accustomed  walk,  one  day,  she  was  arrested 
by  the  loud  cries  of  a  child  near.  With  her  sympathies 
ever  enlisted  for  children,  she  glanced  quickly  in  the  di- 
rection, and  beheld  a  little,  infantile  lociking  child  of  two 
years  old  apparently,  gazing  bewildered,  and  screaming  away 
at   the  top  of  its  lungs. 

Lady  Maude  approached,  and  at  a  single  glance  became 
deeply  interested  in  this  little  stray  waif. 

It  was  a  face  of  singular  beauty  that  met  her  eye.  A 
dark  olive  complexion,  large,  brilliant  black  eyes,  coal-black 
hair  that  now  hung  tangled  and  disordered  over  her  shoul- 
ders. Her  little  dress  w;>p  torn,  and  her  hands  and  face 
scratched  with  brambles.      The  child  was  evidently  lost. 

Lady  Maude  approached ;  and  the  child,  turning  to  gaze 
on  her,  for  a  moment  oeased  her  cries.  Stooping  down,  she 
parted  the  elf-locks  off  the  dark  little  face,  and  gazed  long 
and  earnestly  down  into  the  bright  eyes  that  fearlessly  met 
her  own.  Something  in  that  face  haunted  and  troubled  her  ; 
it  seemed  to  her  she  had  seen  it  before.  Yet  that  could 
hardly  be ;  for  this  was  not  a  face  easily  forgotten,  when 
once  seen.  The  longer  she  looked,  the  more  and  more 
troubled  she  grew.  It  seemed  to  her  she  must  have  seen 
a  face  like  this  somewhere  before,  and  that  it  was  connected 
with  some  dark  memory — what,  she  could  not  tell. 

The   child,    with   the   confiding   confidence    of   infancy, 


THE  ADOPTED  DAUOHTKK. 


221 


tender,  and 
ren  amount- 
s,"  as  some 
er  attention, 
long  all  the 
er  affection, 
ihe  idolized 
1  return, 
le  old  man- 
s,    fine    pre- 

Here,  with 
labit  of  go- 
re the  haj)- 
ring  through 
listurbed,  of 

vas  arrested 
sympathies 
■  in  the  di- 
hild  of  two 
laming  away 

ince  became 

her  eye.  A 
s,  coal-black 
r  her  shtul- 
ds  and  face 
tly  lost, 
ing  to  gaze 
g  down,  she 

gazed  long 
arlessly  met 
roubled  her  ; 
:  that  could 
often,  when 
e  and  more 
t  have  seen 
IS  connected 
;11. 

of   infancy, 


looked  up  in  the  pale,  sweet  face  of  the  lovely  lady      nd 
artlessly  lisped : 

"  F^nX'' murmured  Lady  Maude,  in  surprise.  "How 
in  the  world  can  she  have  come  here?  Where  ,s  'mother,' 
little  one  '  "  she  asked,  in  the  same  language. 

.'Gone  away-  bad  man  get  Rita,"  lisped  the  httle  inno- 
cent  Dulling  Lady  Maude's  dress,  as  if  to  urge  her  along. 

The  countess  was  at  a  loss,  and  perhaps  would  have  gone 
with  t1.e  little  one  further  into  the  woods,  had  not  one  of 
Jhe  earl's  gamekeepers  come  up  at  that  instant,  and  takmg 
off  his  hat,  said :  ,  r 

"  Better  not  venture  into  the  woods,  my  lady,  a  gang  ot 
gipsies  passed  through,  last  night."  Then  catchmg  s.ght 
o^f  Rita,  as  the  child  Called  herself,  he  burst  out  m  surprise ; 
.<  Why,  bless  my  soul  1  here's  one  of  em  1 

Vickies  this  child  belong  to  the  g'P^^^^ ?  ^^^^^.  ^^f ^ 
Maude,  who  never  could  hear  the  word  g.psy  without  a 
sudden  red  light  flushing  to  her  pale  cheek. 

'Yes  my  lady;  saw  her  with  them  when  they  passed 
throuS'  last  night  S'pose  she's  got  left  behmd,  in  a  mis- 
take     1  don't  believe  she's  one  of  'em,  though  ;  stole,  most 

^'^' Do   you    think  so  ?  "  said  Lady  Maude  with  interest. 
.'She  does  not  look  unlike  a  gipsy.     Why  do  you  thmk  she 

^'<.  Whrmytdy,  if  she  had  been  one  of  thernselves,  some 
of  the  women  would  have  had  her ;  but  nobody  seemed  to 
owr^^thTs  one,  or  to  care  about  her.  I  saw  one  of  U.e  men 
Taw  her  alo^g  side  of  the  head,  last  night,  with  a  blow  that 
knocked  her  down.     Lord  1  how  my  fingers  were  itching  to 

fin  the  same  to  him ! "  ,  .       . 

-Poor  little  thing!  "said  Lady  Maude,  compassionate- 
ly  folding  her  in  her  arms  with  a  sudden  impulse.  Poor 
Httle  thing  !  Yes.  now  I  think  of  it,  it  is  more  than  probable 
she  ha  been  stokn,  for  she  cannot  speak  English  Carry 
he?  to  the  hall ;  her  poor  little  feet  are  all  cut  and  bleeding, 
and  we  can  not  allow  her  to  perish  here. 

The  man  lifted  the  child  in  his  arms,   and  followed  the 

, .u^  u^u   ,„hprp  ^he.  eave  orders  to  have  the  little 

fo^lX'p-peS;' dressed  a„d=-cared  for,  before  presenting 


IT 


.'SMJlMO.. 


232 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


her  to  the  carl.  He  smiled  as  he  listened  to  her  story,  and 
followed  her  to  the  room  where  little  Rita,  now  washed  and 
neatly  dressed,  sat  on  the  floor  playing  with  some  toys. 
But  as  his  eyes  rested  on  the  dark,  brilliant  face,  the  smile 
faded  away,  and  a  half-puzzled,  half-doubtful  look  took  itK 
place. 

"  Is  she  not  beautiful,  dear  Ernest  ?  Does  she  not  re- 
mind you  of  some  bright,  rich,  tropical  flower .'' "  said  Lady 
Maude,  in  admiration. 

"  Or  some  bright-winged,  gorgeous  little  butterfly —  yes," 
said  Lord  De  Coun  y.  "  But,  Maude,  it  seems  to  me — I  can 
not  account  for  it — but  it  seems  as  if  I  had  seen  her  some- 
where before." 

"  Oh,  my  lord  1  have  you,  too,  observed  it  ?  "  cried  Lady 
Maude,  breathlessly.  "  It  was  the  first  thing  that  struck  me, 
too.     How  very  singular  1  " 

"  I  suppose  she  resembies  some  one  we  have  both  known. 
There  is  no  accounting  for  the  strange  likenesses  we  see 
sometimes  in  total  strangers.  Well,  what  do  you  intend  to 
do  with  this  little  bird  of  paradise  you  have  caught  ?  " 

"  Let  her  remain  here  in  charge  of  the  housekeeper.  I 
cannot  account  for  the  strange  interest  I  feel  in  this  little 
one,  Ernest." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  the  child  you  do  not  feel  an  inter- 
est in,  Maude,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  But  are  there  no  means 
of  finding  out  to  whom  she  belongs  ?  Her  parents  may  be 
living,  and  lamenting  her  loss,  even  now,  dear  wife." 

A  sudden  shadow  fell  on  them  both  at  his  words  and  the 
recollection  they  recalled.  Earl  De  Courcy's  eyes  softened 
with  a  tender  light  as  he  gazed  on  the  child's,  and  Lady 
Maude's  were  full  of  tears  as  she  stooped  down  and  kissed 
the  small,  red  mouth. 

"  There  are  no  ^ans  of  discovering  them,  Ernest,"  she 
said,  half  sadly.  •  .  iie  gipsies  are  gone  ;  but  Martha  found 
a  little  silver  cross  round  her  neck,  on  which  were  engraven 
the  letters  'M.  J.  L.'  I  have  laid  it  carefully  aside,  though 
I  fear  her  parentage  may  never  be  discovered." 

"  Well  do  as  you  like  with  her,  dear  Maude.  The  child  is 
certainly  very  beautiful.  I  believe  you  love  all  children  for 
our  lost  treasure's  sake." 

"  Oh,  I  do — I  do  1  my  sweet,  precious  Erminie  I     Oh,  my 


THE  ADOPTED  DAUGHTER. 


223 


story,  and 
cashed  and 
some  toys. 
!,  the  smile 
)k  took  iti 

she  not  ro- 
said  Lady 

•fly —  yes," 

me — I  can 

her  some- 

:ried  Lady 
;  struck  me, 

oth  known, 
jcs  we  see 

intend  to 
:it  ?  " 
ikeeper.     I 

this   little 

I  an  inter- 
i  no  means 
ts  may  be 
fe." 

ds  and  the 

:s  softened 

and   Lady 

and  kissed 

>nest,"she 
,rtha  found 
i  engraven 
ide,  though 

rhe  child  is 
:hildren  for 

!     Oh,  my 


lord!  if  this  little  one  had  blue  eyes  and  fair  hair   like  her,  I 
could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  adopt  her,  for  our  darhng  s 

'  "  You  would  not  :  ;3uch  a  trifle  as  that  prevent  you, 
Maude,  if  you  really  wished  it.  Hut  let  the  child  remain. 
Kiui— that's  her  name,  isn't  it  ?— come  here,  Rita." 

He  held  out  his  arms.  Rita  looked  at  him  from  under 
her  long  eye  lashes,  and  then  going  over,  nestled  within  them 
iust  is  Erminie  used  to  do.  ...    * 

The  simple  action  awoke  a  host  of  tender  memories  that 
for  a  moment  nearly  unnerved  the  earl.  Rising  hastily,  he 
kissed  Rita  and  left  the  room.  But  from  that  day  the  little 
stray  waif  was  an  inmate  of  the  hall,  and  with  every  passing 
day  grew  more  and  more  deeply  dear  to  the  earl  and  count- 
ess  When  they  returned  to  the  city,  Lady  Maude  would 
not  hear  of  parting  with  her  pet ;  so  Mademoiselle  Rita  and 
her  nurse  accompanied  them  ;  and  soon  both  earl  and  count- 
ess learned  to  love  her  with  a  love  only  second  to  that 
they  had  cherished   for  little  Erminie. 

And  so,  without  legally  adopting  her,  they  learned  to  look  up 
on  her,  as  time  passed,  in  the  light  of  a  daughter  sent  to  take 
ihe  place  of  the  lost  one.  Rita  addressed  them  by  the  en- 
dearing name  of  father  and  mother ;  and  the  world  tacitly 
seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  little  '<  Lady  Rita'  was  to 
be  heiress  and  daughter  of  Earl  De  Courcy. 

At  seven  years  old,  Lady  Rita  had  her  governess  and 
commenced  her  education.  She  seemed  to  have  iorgotten 
she  ever  had  any  other  father  and  mother  than  Lord  an^ 
Lady  De  Courcy  ;  and  they,  quite  as  willing  she  should 
think  so   never  undeceived  her. 

And  so,  while  the  lost  daughter  was  living  m  po-erty, 
in  a  little  cottage,  in  her  far  distant  home,  depender,^  on 
the  bounty  of  others,  the  adopted  daughter  was  growing 
up  surrounded  by  every  luxury  that  fond  hearts  could  bestow 
upon  her. 


?si 


!     II 


>   m 

in 


wm 


^ 


;aj  Ma 


224 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


PET    GIVES    HER    TUTOR    A    LESSON. 

«'  Then  on  his  blow  the  swelling  vein  "; 

Throbbed,  as  if  back  upon  his  brain  \ 

The  hot  blood  ebbed  and  flowed  again." 

— Byrow. 

Your  pardon,  dear  reader,  if,  without  further  preface,  I 
skip  over  a  period  of  six  years.  Orie  brief  bird's-eye  glawce 
at  the  past,  and  then  to  go  on  with  our  history. 

Those  six  years  had  changed  Ray  and  Ranty  from  boys 
of  tifteen  to  young  men  of  twenty-one,  and  had  metarnor- 
phosed  Erminie  and  Petronilla  from  Httle  girls  of  twelve  and 
eleven  to  young  ladies  of  respectively  eighteen  and  st-ven- 
teen.  Beyond  that,  it  had  wrought  little  change  in  J.ides- 
town  or  its  inhabitants. 

Master  Ranty  having  displayed,  during  his  rapid  career 
at  college,  sundry  "  fast  "  tendencies,  was  sent  to  aca  to 
take  the  nonsense  out  of  him.  That  young  gentleman  bore 
his  fate  with  most  exemplary  patience  and  resignation, 
affirming  that  he  always  had  a  strong  partiality  for  bilge- 
water  and  short  allowance,  and  rather  liked  the  cat-o'-nine- 
tails than  otherwise. 

Great  was  the  delight  of  the  worthy  admiral,  his  uncle, 
when  he  heard  of  his  nephew's  destination ;  and  it  was  par- 
tially through  his  influence  that,  some  months  after,  Ranty, 
radiant  in  blue  roundabout  and  bright  brass  buttons,  stood 
on  the  deck  of  the  Sea  Nymph,  and  wrote  his  name,  in  tre- 
mendous capitals,  as  "  Randolph  Lawless,  U.  S.  N." 
.  "  Now  remember,  Minnie,  you  mustn't  go  and  fail  in  love 
with  anybody  else,"  were  his  parting  words;  "  if  you  do,  I'll 
knock  all  creation  into  everlasting  smash  ;  I'll  hurl  the  whole 
universe  into  the  regions  of  space ;  I'll  set  fire  to  every 
blessed  one  of  the  United  States,  and  bring  all  the  world 
and  Nebraska  Territory  to  universal  ruination  ! '' 

Duly    impressed    by    these   appalling   and   biood-chiiling 
threats,  Erminie  dutifully  promised  not  to  "  go  ahd  fall  in 


PET  GIVES  IIER  TUTOR  A  LESvSON.       225 


attd  fall  in 


love  with  anybody  else  ;"  and  Mr  Lawless,  transformed  into 
a  dasliing  middy,  gavo  his  friends  at  home  his  blessing,  and 
set  off  on  his  first  voyage. 

Ray,  who,  even  in'his  boyhood,  had  displayed  great  tal- 
ent in  legal  matters,  was  now,  by  the  kindness  of  tlie  admi- 
ral, in  New  York  city,  studying  law. 

Erminie,  too,  was  absent  from  home  now.  Having  com- 
pletely captivated  the  heart  of  the  generous  and  eccentric 
Admiral  Havenful,  as  she  did  that  of  most  others,  he  set 
about  thinking,  one  day,  what  was  the  best  means  to  display 
his  affection.  Just  then  he  recollected  her  fondness  for 
learning,  and  the  few  opportunities  she  had  to  indulge  that 
fondness;  and  jumping  up,  he  struck  the  table  a  vigorous 
blow,  exclaiming: 

"  I'll  send  her  to  school!  Pet  learns  all  them  heathen- 
ish foreign  languages,  and  makes  a  noise  on  that  big  sea-chest 
of  a  piano,  and  so  shall  little  Snowdrop.  Ell  send  her  to 
school  this  very  day! — shiver  my  timbers  if  I  don't!" 

And  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  the  admiral,  with  many  a 
doleful  grunt,  dumped  himself  on  old  Ringbones  back,  and 
jogged  over  the  heath  to  the  cottage. 

There  he  made  his  proposal  to  Erminie,  whose  sweet  blue 
eyes  lit  up  at  first  with  joy   and  gratitude  ;  then  came  the 
thought  of  Ketura,  now  a  helpless  cripple,  unable  to  leave 
her  room,   and  her  countenance  fell,  and   the  joyful  Hght^ 
faded  from  her  face. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  cannot  leave  my  grandmother," 
was  her  sad  reply. 

"  Fiddle-de-dee  1"  exclaimed  the  admiral,  testily.  "  She's 
got  Lucy  to  attend  to  her  ;  and  if  Lucy  is  not  enough,  she 
can  have  half  a  dozen  female  women  from  the  White  Squall 
to  keep  her  in  proper  saihng  order.  I  know  a  good  place 
to  send  you  to.  Snowdrop,  and  go  you  shall,  and  that's  all 
about  it !     I'll  speak  to  the  old  lady  myself  about  it." 

So  the  admiral  stamped   up-stairs  and  spoke  to  Ketura^ 
accordingly,  who  gave  a  cold,  curt  assent.     And  the  resulb- 
of  this  was  that,  three  weeks  after,   Erminie  was  sent  to   a 
Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  to  study  everything  necessary 
for  a  finished  education. 

So  of  our  four  voung  friends,  only  Firefly  remained  at 
home,  under  the  surveillance  of  a  tutor.     Pet  had  lost  none 


jua 


226 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I 


■ 


\:V 


of  her  mischief-loving  propensities  as  she  grew  up  ;  in  fact, 
they  seemed  to  grow  with  her  growth,  until   she  became  the 
maddest,    merriest,    skip-over-the-moon    madcap    that  ever 
threw  a  peaceable  community  into  convulsions.     Never  did  a 
pupil  drive  a  well-disposed  teacher  to  the  verge  of  distraction 
as  Pet  did  hers ;  never  did  a  naughty  daughter  throw  a  digni- 
fied '•  parient  "  into  such  undignified  paroxysms  of  rage  as  our 
Firefly  did  ;  never  was  a  quiet,  orderly,  stately  mansion  thrown 
upside  down,  as  if  a  tornado  had  torn  through  it  every  day,  as 
Heath  Hall  was  ;  never  in  any  other  house  was  here  heard  such 
awful  banging  of  doors,  and  slamming  down  of  windows,  and 
tearing  like  a  maniac   up  and  down-stairs,  and  rushing  like  a 
living  whirlwind  in  and  out  of  every   room   in  five  minutes, 
as  might  be  seen  and  heard  here ;   never  were  servants  so 
completely  at  their  wits'  end  ;  never  were  quiet,   business- 
like neighbors  so  completely  and  utterly   shocked  and  aston- 
ished before  as  they  were  by  the   freaks  of  Judge  Lawless' 
heiress.     Well-named  was  Pet ;  for  never,  since  the  plagues 
of  Egypt,  was  the  earth   afflicted  with  a  more  lawless  little 
hurricane   than    the    hotheaded,    laughter-loving,    mischief- 
making  heiress  in  question.     Very  charming,  withal,  and  be- 
wilderingly  beautiful  was  Pet ;  and  there  was  not  a  young  man 
in  Judestown,  or  within  twenty  miles  round,  who  would  not 
have  given  his  whiskers  and  mustaches  for   one  glance  from 
her  "  bonnie  black  e'e''     But  Pet  didn't  care   a   snap  for  all 
the  young  men  in  America,  except,  perhaps,  Ray  Germaine  ; 
and  she  flirted  away  unmercifully,  turned  countless  heads, 
and  had  more  sighing  swains  at  her  feet  than  all  the  other 
belles  of  Judestown  put  together. 

Pet  was  naturally  clever,  bright  and  talented,  and  could 
have  progressed  wonderfully  in  her  studies  if  she  fc.d  chosen  ; 
but  she  didn't  choose,  and  followed  her  own  sweet  will  about 
learning,  in  spite  of  all  the  lectures,  entreaties  and  persua- 
sions of  her  tutor,  and  the  stern  reproofs  and  angry  out- 
bursts of  her  father.  Therefore,  at  eighteen,  she  could  play 
a  little,  draw  a  little— her  talents  in  this  respect  were  chiefly 
confined  to  caricature — sing  a  good  deal,  talk  more  than  she 
could  sing,  and  was  still  aware  that  English  grammar  was  a  lit- 
tle book  with  a  gray  cover.  At  first,  Mr.  Garnet,  her  teacher, 
bad  insisted  upon  her  applying  herself ;  but  seeing  that  Pet 
only  listened  very  dutifully  and  then  did  as  she   liked  after, 


jp ;  in  fact, 
became  the 
)  that  ever 
Never  did  a 
f  distraction 
irow  a  digni- 
■  rage  as  our 
sion  thrown 
very  day,  as 
e  heard  such 
indows,  and 
ishing  like  a 
ve  minutes, 
servants  so 
t,  business- 
i  and  aston- 
ge  Lawless' 
the  plagues 
awless  little 
^,  mischief- 
thai,  and  be- 
a  young  man 
)  would  not 
glance  from 
snap  for  all 
y  Germaine ; 
tless  heads, 
,11  the  other 

,  and  could 
h;d  chosen; 
et  will  about 
and  persua- 
i  angry  out- 
le  could  play 

were  chiefly 
ore  than  she 
mar  was  a  lit- 
,  her  teacher, 
:ing  that  Pet 

liked  after, 


PET  GIVES  HER  TUTOR  A  LESSON.      227 

he  gave  it  up,    nd  allowed  her  now  pretty  much  to  do  as  she 
liked. 

Pet  had  from  the  first  conceived  a  strong  dislike  to  this 
gentleman — a  dislike  that  increased  every  day.  This  was 
the  more  surprising,  as  his  conduct,  morals,  and  manners, 
were  irreproachable,  and  he  was  an  immense  favorite  with 
the  judge  and  everybody  else.  In  person  he  was  a  tall, 
li^dit-haired,  gray-eyed,  effeminate-looking  young  man  ;  easy 
and  courteous  in  manner,  polished  in  address,  a  finished 
scholar,  and — strict  Christian.  But  Pet's  keen  gaze  had 
detected  the  concealed  cunning  in  the  eye ;  the  sardonic 
smile,  the  unscrupulous  look  the  face  sometimes  wore ;  the 
hard,  crafty,  cruel  expression  of  the  mouth.  Therefore,  all 
his  virtue  was  to  her  hypocrisy ;  his  goodness,  a  mask  for 
evil  designs  ;  his  politeness,  a  cloak  for  covert  wickedness. 
Pet  disliked  him.  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  it. 

And  Pet  had  read  his  character  aright ;  he  had  been  a 
young  man  of  fortune — he  was  a  ruined  debauchee,  reduced 
to  this  by  his  excesses.  At  first  he  had  looked  upon  his 
scholar  as  a  pest  and  plague  ;  but  as  she  grew  up,  his  feel- 
ings changed.  Love  and  ambition  began  to  enter  his  heart. 
What,  he  thought,  if  he  could  win  this  peerless  beauty,  this 
wealthy  heiress,  to  be  his  wife  ?  His  fallen  fortunes  would 
be  retrieved,  and  his  pride  and  passion  gratified  possessing 
her.  Concealing  his  schemes,  he  wound  himself  round  the 
heart  of  the  judge,  until  he  became  his  bosom  friend  and 
confidant.  He  knew  Pet  disliked  him,  but  he  thought  this 
was  because  she  looked  upon  him  as  a  cross  master ;  if  she 
could  be  taught  to  regard  him  as  a  lover,  it  would  be  very 
different.  Therefore,  as  months  passed,  he  became  all 
kindness  tenderness,  and  affability — the  most  devoted 
slave  and  admirer  Miss  Lawless  had. 

"  When  Satan  turns  saint,  there's  room  .for  suspicion!" 
said  Pet,  looking  at  him  with  a  cool,  critical  eye.  "  You're 
up  to  something  you  shouldn't  be,  my  good  youth.  I'll  keep 
my  eye  on  you,  Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet." 

But  though  Pet  kept  her  "  eye  on  him"  as  she  threatened, 
no  clue  to  the  change  could  she  discover  ;  for  as  a  lover  she 
had  never  dreamed  of  him  in  her  wildest  moments.  Until 
one  day,  bursting  into  the  library  where  he  sat,  with  an  open 
letter  in  her  hand,  her  cheeks  flushed  to  a  deeper  crimson 


S5BL 


MMM" 


JMEL 


•SLLMfiL- 


|?^-fl 


'■  ■  ti 

/ 

228  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

than  usual,  her  dancing  curls  all  irradiate,  her  brilliant  eyes 
flashing  back  the  sunshine,  her  whole  face  sparkling  with 
delight,  he  looked  up  from  the   book   he   was   reading,   and 

'  "  You  seem  in  unusually  good  spirits  to-day,  Miss  Lawless 
—may  I  ask  the  cause  ?  "  . 

"  Yes  ;  I've  got  a  letter  from  Ray,  and  he's  coming  home 
in  a  month  or  so  1  Tra,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la." 

And  Pet  went  waltzing  round  the  room. 

A  cloud  settled  for  a  moment  on  the  bland  face  of  the 
gentleman,  and  his  small  eyes  shot  a  sharp,  jealous  gleam  at 
the  bewildering  figure  floating  dimly  over  the  carpet.  It  van- 
ished however,  as  quickly  as  it  came,  as  he  said,  in  a  tone  ot 
assumed  carelessness  :  "  Ah !  and  who  is  Ray,  Miss  Petro- 


ni 


?  " 


'  Why,  you  know  well  enough,  "  said  Pet,  impatiently. 
"  R  ly  Germaine — vou  saw  him  when  he  was  here  last.  " 

"'l]less  me!  Yes,  I  had  forgotten;  but  you  remember 
that  was  three  years  ago.  Miss  Lawless,  so  I  may  be  pardoned 
for  p.ot  recollecting  him.  If  I  took  as  much  interest  in  him 
as  Y  'II  seem  to  do,  my  memory  would  doubtless  be  better. 

liis  tones  were  low,  bland  and  oily,  but  his  gleaming  eyes 
were  like  two  drawn  stilettoes. 

-  I  expect  you  would,  "  said  Pet.  "  I  have  a  faint  idea  that 
I  would  have  some  trouble— if  not  more— in  forgetting  Ray 
GcrnKiine.     Don't  believe  he  would  approve  of  my  doing  so 

at  all,  either,"  ,  ,        ,  1 

"  I  did  not  think  Miss  Lawless  cared  for  the  approval  or 
disapproval  of  any  one  in  the  world,"  insinuated  the  gentle- 
man, Willi  one  of  his  bland  smiles  and  needlelike  glances.    ^^ 

«<  We'll  see  what  thought  done  !     That  proves,  Mr.  Garnet, 
Slid  l!u>  elf,  mockingly,  "how  careful  the  general  run  of  man- 
kind  sli-.uld  be  in  trusting  their  thoughts,  since  even  a  gentle- 
man so  near  perfection  as  you  are  can  be  deceived." 

"  ']  hen  you  do  care  for  the  approval  of  this  fellow,  Ger- 
maiiK-  ^  "  sai-l  the  tutor,  trving  to  hide  a  dark  scowl. 

"  Thi'^  fellow,  Germaine"?     Well,  there's  a  nice  way  for  a 
voun"  lady's  tutor  to  talk  of  her  friends.     I'd  prefer  to  heat 
him  e-.lled  Mister  Germaine,  sir,  if. it's  all  the  same  to  you, 
said  P  t,  drawing  herself  up. 

"  Oh,  very  well !  "  said  Garnet,  with  a  curling  lip ;      oni; 


PET  GIVES  HER  TUTOR  A  I.ESSON       229 


as  he  is  a  pauper,  educated  by  the  bounty  of  your  uncle — " 

But  his  speech  was  cut  short  by  Pet's  springing  suddenly 
round,  with  blazing  eyes,  passion-darkened  face,  and  fiercely 
and  passionately  bursting  out  with  : 

"  It  is  false  '  It  is  a  foul  slander!  Ray  Germaine  is  no 
pauper  ;  and  if  you  ever  dare  to  say  such  a  thing  again,  I  shall 
have  you  turned  out  of  the  house  1  Take  care  how  you  talk, 
Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet !  It's  treading  on  dangerous  ground  to 
slight  my  friends  before  mel  " 

Mr.  Garnet  saw  that  he  had  made  a  false  move,  and  that  it 
was  dangerous  work  handling  this  fiery  little  grenade,  so  he 
banished  all  traces  of  his  recent  scowl  from  liis  face,  and  his 
tones  were  of  honeyed  sweetness  when  he  spoke  again. 

"  Ten  thousand  pardons.  Miss  Lawless,  for  my  offence. 
Believe  me,  I  had  not  the  remotest  intention  of  slighting 
your  excellent  friend,  Mr.  Germaine.  You  and  he  were  very 
intimate,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  Thick  as  pickpockets,"  said  Pet,  forgetting  her  momen- 
tary anger.  "  Heigho!  I  wish  he  was  liere  ;  he  was  the  only 
masculine  I  ever  knew,  who  wasn't  as  stupid  as  an  owl.'' 

"  Tiiat's  a  very  flattering  speech.  Miss  Lawless,"  said 
Garnet,  biting  his  lip,  "  and  a  very  sweeping  assertion. 
Are  there  no  exceptions  but  him  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I've  ever  met.  1  dare  say  there  may  be  one  or 
two  in  the  world;  but  I  haven't  come  across  them." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  during  which  Garnet  sat 
gnawing  his  nether  li]3,  and  Pet  flitted  round  the  room,  hum- 
ming an  opera  air.  lie  watched  her  covertly,  and  then,  see- 
ing her  about  to  leave,  he  started  impulsively  up,  exclaiming : 

"  One  moment,  Miss  Pet — I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

"  Well,  fire  away,"  said  Pet,  composedly,  turning  round,  and 
standing  wiih  her  back  to  the  door. 

But  for  once  in  his  life,  his  customary  assurance  seemed  to 
have  failed  him.  There  was  something  in  the  bold,  fearless 
open  gaze  of  those  brilliant  black  eyes  that  daunted  him, 
brazen  as  he  was.  A  slight  crimson  flushed  to  his  face,  and 
his  eyes  for  an  instant  fell. 

"  Now,  what  in  the  name  of  Diana  and  all  her  nymphs  is 
coming  ? "'  mentally  exclaimed  Pet,  as  she  watched  in  surprise 
his  embarrassment.  "  The  cool,  self-possessed,  dignified 
Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet  blushing  like  a  boiled  lobster  before  poor 


■/' 


1S:ML^IL  ^,-l.WlX_ :a»M« 


230 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


,■      It 


14: 


little  Pet  Lawless  1     Snakes  and  sarpints,  and  varmints  gen- 
erally, the  world's  coming  to  an  end — that's  certain  !  " 

Then  aloud  : 

"  Mr.  Garnet,  I  desired  you  to  fire  away,  which  translated 
from  the  original  Greek,  means  go  ahead,  and  say  whatever 
you  want  to.  No  need  to  be  bashful  about  it  seeing  it's  only 
me." 

The  flush  on  Mr.  Garnet's  cheek  deepened,  as  he  said : 

"  Perhaps,  Miss  Petronilla,  what  I  am  about  to  say  may 
be  unexpected,  but  it  can  hardly  take  you  by  surprise.  The 
change  in  my  manner  toward  you  for  the  last  few  months 
must  have  prepared  you  for  it." 

He  stopped  short,  and  began  walking  up  and  down.  Pet 
stuck  both  hands  in  her  apron-pockets,  and  stood  waiting, 
"  like  Patience  on  a  monument,"  for  what  was  to  come 
next. 

"  It's  no  gunpowder-plot,  or  hanging  matter,  now,  is  it  ?  " 
she  began.  "  For  though  I  wouldn't  mind  setting  the  Chesa- 
peake on  fire,  or  blowing  up  the  AUeghanies,  I've  an  immense 
respect  for  the  laws  of  my  country,  Mr.  Garnet,  and  would 
not  like  to  undermine  the  Constitution,  or  anything  of  that 
sort.  Any  common  matter,  though,  from  riding  a  steeple- 
chase to  fighting  a  duel,  and  I'm  yours  to  command." 

"  Miss  Lawless,  may  I  beg  of  you  to  be  serious  for  a  few 
moments — this  is  no  jesting  matter,"  said  the  gentleman, 
looking  annoyed. 

"  Well,  my  goodness  1  ain't  I  serious  ?  I'll  leave  it  to  the 
company,  generally,  if  I'm  not  as  solemn  as  a  hearse.  If 
you'd  only  condescend  to  look  at  me  instead  of  watching 
the  flowers  in  the  carpet,  you  would  see  my  face  is  half  a 
yard  long." 

"  Then,  Miss  Lawless,  to  come  to  the  matter  at  once — for  I 
know  you  do  not  like  long  prefaces — I  love  you,  I  worship 
you,  Petronilla  1  Petronilla,  dearer  then  life  I  may  I  hope 
one  day  to  possess  this  dear  hand  ? " 

Now,  if  our  Pet  had  been  sentimental,  she  would  have 
blushed  becomingly,  burst  into  tears,  or  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands,  maybe  ;  but  Pet  wasn't  a  bit  sentimental, 
and  so,  arching  her  eyebrows,  and  opening  her  eyes  till  they 
were  the  size  of  two  saucers,  she  gave  utterance  to  her  c-om- 
plete  amazement  in  a  long,  shrill  whistle. 


mints  gen- 
in!" 

,  translated 
Y  whatever 
ng  it's  only 

he  said : 
o  say  may 
•rise.     The 
ew  months 

iown.  Pet 
od  waiting, 
s    to    come 

3w,  is  it  ? " 
^the  Chesa- 
in  immense 
and  would 
ing  of  that 
a  steeple- 
md." 

s  for  a  few 
gentleman, 

ve  it  to  the 
hearse.  If 
if  watching 
e  is  half  a 

once — for  I 

I    worship 

nay  I  hope 

would  have 
d  her  face 
ientimental, 
yes  till  they 
lo  her  com- 


PET  GIVES  HER  TUTOR  A  LESSON.      231 

Garnet  approached  her,  and  would  have  taken  her  hand, 
only  as  they  were  still  stuck  in  her  aproa-pockets,  she  didn't 
appear  to  have  such  a  thing  about  her.  Accordingly,  there- 
fore, he  attempted  do  the  next  best  thing,  that  is,  put 
his  arms  around  her  waist ;  but  Pet  very  coolly  edged  away 

saying : 

"  Hands  off,  Mr.  Garnet,  until  better  acquainted.  I  don't 
believe  in  having  coat-sleeves  round  my  waist— as  a  general 
thing.  Just  say  that  over  again,  will  you  ;  it  was  mighty  in- 
teresting !  " 

And  Pet  flung  herself  into  an  arm-chair,  and  put  her 
feet  upon  an  ottoman  with  a  great  display  of  careless- 
ness and  ankles,  and  stared  Mr.  Garnet  composedly  in  the 

face. 

"  Cruel  girl  1  You  know  your  power,  and  thus  you  use 
it.  Oh,  Petronilla  1  my  beautiful  one  1  have  I  nothing  left  to 
hope  for  ?  "  ^^ 

"  That's  a  question  I  can't  take  it  upon  myself  to  answer, 
said  Pet.     "  There's  your  next  quarter's  salary,  though,  you 
can  hope  for  that." 

"  Is  that  meant  as  a  taunt  ?  Oh,  Petronilla  I  you  little 
know  how  deeply,  how  devotedly  I  love  you  1  I  could  give 
my  life  to  make  you  happy." 

"  Thanky,  Mr.  Garnet— shows  a  highly  Christian  spirit  in 
you  :  but,  at  the  same  time,  I  guess  I  won't  mind  it.  As  to 
your  loving  me,  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  about  it. 
I'm  such  an  angel  in  female  form  that  I  don't  see  how 
people  can  help  loving  me,  any  more  than  they  can  help  the 
toothache.  So  you  needn't  go  telling  me  over  again  you 
love  me,  because  you've  said  it  two  or  three  times  already  ; 
and  the  most  interesting  things  get  tiresome,  you  know,  when 
repeated  too  often." 

"  Capricious,  beautiful  fairy  1  how  shall  I  win  you  to  seri- 
ousness? Fairest  Petronilla,  I  would  serve  for  this  little 
hand  even  as  Jacob  served  for  Rachel !/' 

"  Mr.  Garnet,  it's  real  polite  of  you  to  say  so,  but  you'll 
excuse  me  for  saying  I'd  a  good  deal  rather  you  wouldn't. 
You've  been  here  six  years  now,  and  if  I  thought  I  was  to 
undergo  six  more  like  them,  I'd  take  the  first  bar  of  soft-soap 
I  could  find  and  put  an  immediate  end  to  my  melancholy 
existence." 


^I*JIJI 


a  k 


^32 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"  Mocking  still !  Oh,  beautiful  Petronilla !  how  shall  I 
reach  this  willful  heart  ?  " 

"There's  no  heart  there,  Mr.  Garnet  ;  it  took  a  trip  to  the 
fast  city  of  Gotham  three  years  ago,  and  hasn't  come  back 
since." 

"  With  Raymond  Germaine?  "  he  said,  with  a  sharp  fiash 

of  his  eyes. 

"•  Ex-actly ;  you've  struck  the  right  thing  in  the  middle 
— htt  the  nail  straight  on  the  head — jumped,  with  your  ac- 
customed sagacity,  at  my  exact  meaning.  After  all,  you're 
not  half  so  stupid  as  you  look,  Mr.  Garnet." 

"  Miss  Lawless,"  he  broke  out,  angrily,  ''this  levity  is  as 
unbecoming  as  it  is  unnecessary.  I  have  asked  you  a 
question,  which,  as  a  lady,  you  are  bound  to  answer." 

"  Mr.  Garnet,  look  here,"'  said  Pet :  "  did  papa  hire  you 
to  knock  reading,  writing  and  spelling  into  me,  or  to  make 
love  ? " 

"  Miss  Lawless  1  " 

"  Perhaps,  though,"  said  Pet,  in  a  musing  tone,  "  it's 
customary  with  tutors  when  winding  up  a  young  lady's 
education,  to  put  her  through  a  severe  course  of  love-making, 
that  she  may  know  how  to  act  and  speak  properly  when  oc- 
casion requires.  Mr.  Garnet,  excuse  me,  I  never  thought 
of  it  before  ;  I  see  it  all  now.  Just  begin  at  the  beginning 
again,  if  it's  not  too  much  trouble,  and  you'll  see  how  beauti- 
fully I'll  go  through  with  it." 

He  started  up  passionately,  and  bit  his  lip  till  it  bled. 

"  Once  for  all.  Miss  Lawless,"  he  exclaimed,  stifiing  his 
impotent  rage,  and  striding  fiercely  up  to  her — "  once  for 
all,  I  demand  an  answer.    I  love  you— will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,  Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet,"  said  Pet,  con- 
fusedly, "  you  have  the  mildest  and  pleasantest  way  of  your 
own  I  ever  witnessed.  Here  you  come  stamping  up  to  me 
as  if  about  to  knock  me  down,  and  savagely  tell  me  you  love 
mel  Love  away,  can't  you,  but  don't  get  in  a  rage  about 
it  1  I'm  sure  you're  perfectly  welcome  to  love  me  till  you're 
black  in  the  face,  if  you'll  only  take  things  easy." 

"Miss  Lawless,  forgive  me;  I'm  half-mad,  and  scarce 
know  what  I  said." 

"  I  forgive  you,"  said  Pet,  stretching  out  her  hands  as  if 
about  to  warm  them ;  "  go,  sin  no  more.     I  thought  you 


aw   shall  I 

.  trip  to  the 
:onie   back 

sharp  flash 

the  middle 
h  your  ac- 
all,   you're 

levity  is  as 

iked  you  a 

er." 

a  hire  you 

r  to  make 


tone,  "  it's 
ung  lady's 
ive-making, 
y  when  oc- 
er  thought 
beginning 
how  beauti- 

it  bled. 

stifling  his 

-"  once  for 

my  wife  ? " 

d  Pet,  con- 

-ay  of  your 

up  to  me 

Tie  you  love 

rage  about 

2  till  you're 
> 

and   scarce 

lands  as  if 
lought  you 


PET  GIVES  H1:R  tutor  A  LESSON.       233 

were  a  little  light  in  the  head  myself  ;  but  then  it  didnt  sur- 
prise me,  as  it's  about  the  full  of  the  moon,  I  thuik." 

"  Miss  Lawless,  1  did  Hiink  you  were  too  much  of  a  lady 
to  despise  and  scoff   nt  true   affection  thus.     HI  have  the 
misfortune  to  be  poor,  that  does  not  make  me  the  less  sensi- 
tive to  insult."  .  .  T,         ^ 
"Now   Mr.  G-.    .-^t,  look  here,"  said  Pet,  rising.    "I  m  get- 
tine  tired  of  this  scene,  and  may  as  well  bring  it  to  an  end 
at  once.     Your  love  I   fully  understand  ;  you  have  several 
reasons  for  loving  me— several  thousands,  in  fact,  but  we 
won't  speak  of  them.     As  to  insulting  you,  I  flatly  deny  it ; 
and  if  you  think  I  have  done  so,  just  refer  me  to  a  friend, 
and  I'll  fight  a  duel  about  it  to-morrow.     Scoffing  at  true 
affection    is  another  thing  I'm   not   in  the   habit   of  domg, 
neither  in  despising  people  for  being  poor;  you  know  both 
th  -se  things  as  well  as  I  do.     Bat,  Mr.  Garnet,  I  wouldn  t 
niarrv  you  if  you  were  the  last  man  in  the  world,   and  I  was 
to  -o  to  my  grave  a  forlorn,  hatchet-faced  old  maul  for  refus- 
iniTvou.  If  it's  any  consolation  to  you  to  know  it,  I  wouldn  t 
marry  you  to    save    your  neck  from     the    hangman— your 
soul  from  you  know  who— or  your  goods  and  chattels,   per- 
sonal, from  being   turned,  neck  and  crop,  into  the  street. 

Now,  there  1 "  .  ,  1      -.i    „ 

His  face  blanched  with  rage ;  his  eyes  gleamed  with  a 
serpent-like  light ;  his  thin  lips  quivered,  and  for  a  moment 
he  stood  glaring  upon  her  as  if  he  could  have  torn  her  limb 
from  limb.  But  there  was  a  dangerous  light  in  her  eye,  too, 
as  she  stood  drawn  up  to  her  full  hight,  with  reddening 
cheeks,  and  defiant,  steady  gaze,  staring  him  still  straight  in 
the  face.  So  they  stood  for  an  instant,  and  then  the  sense 
of  the  ludicrous  overcame  all  else  in  Pet's  mind,  and  she 
burst  into  a  clear,  merry  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,  Mr.  Garnet,  if  this  is  not  as  good 
as  a  farce ;  here  we  are,  staring  at  each  other,  as  if  for 
a  wager,  and  looking  as  savage  as  a  couple  of  uncivilized 
ticrers.  1  dare  say,  it  would  be  a  very  nice  way  to  pass  time 
on  an  ordinary  occasion  ;  but  as  it's  drawing  near  dinner- 
time, and  I  have  a  powerful  appetite  of  my  own,  you  11 
excuse  me  for  bidding  you  a  heartrending  adieu,  and  tearing 
myself  away.  If  you  have  anything  more  to  say,  1  U  come 
back,  after  dinner,  and  stand  it  like  a  martyr.' 


TCTOEXisair 


^f 


231  THK  GYPSY  QUEENVS  VOW. 

"  Not  so  fast,  Miss  Pctronilla  Lawless  1  "  said  Garnet, 
grasping  her  by  the  arm,  his  sallow  face  fairly  livid  mt\^ 
rage  ;  "  since  it  has  been  your  good  pleasure  to  laugh  me  to 
scorn,  and  mock  at  the  affection  I  have  ofTered,  just  hear 
nie.  I  swear  to  you,  the  day  shall  come  when  you  will  rue 
this  !  There  is  but  a  step  between  love  and  hatred  and 
that  step  I  have  taken.  Remember,  you  have  made  me 
your  deadliest  enemy,  and  I  am  an  enemy  not  to  be  scorned  1 
Girl,  beware  1  " 

"  Well,  now,  I  declare,"  said  Pet,  "  if  this  is  not  as  good 
as  a  play  and  moral.  I'm  afraid  you',  j  only  plagiarizing, 
though,  Mr.  Garnet,  for  that  melodramatic  '  girl,  beware  I' 
sounds  very  like  something  I  read  in  the  '  Pink  Bandit  of 
the  Cranberry  Cove.'     Confess,  now,  you've  been  reading  it 

haven't  you  ? — and  that's  an  extract  from  it ;  and,  at  the 

same  time,  you'll  oblige  me  by  letting  go  my  arm.  It's  not 
made  of  cast  iron,  though  you  seem  to  think  it  is." 

"  Laugh,  girl  I  "  he  said,  hoarsely,  "  but  the  day  will  come 
when  you  shall  sue  to  me,  and  sue  in  vain,  even  as  I  have 
done  to-day.     Then  you  will  know  what  it  is  to  despise  Roz- 

zel  Garnet." 

"  Why,  you  horrid  old  fright  1  "  exclaimed  Pet,  with  flash- 
ing eyes,  "  /  sue  to  you,  indeed  1  I  guess  not,  my  good 
teacher  1  How  dare  you  threaten  me,  sir,  your  master's 
daughter  I  Upon  my  word  and  honor,  Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet, 
1  have  the  best  mind  ever  was  to  have  you  horsewhipped  out 
of  the  house  by  my  servants.  A  pretty  chivalrous  gentleman 
you  are,  to  stand  up  there  and  talk  to  a  lady  like  this  1  I 
declare  to  goodness  1  i  I  hadn't  the  temper  of  an  angel,  I 
wouldn't  stand  itl  " 

Still  he  held  her,  glaring  in  her  face  with  his  threatening 
eyes,  and  half-choked  with  passion. 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  Pet,  jerking  herself  first  one  way,  and 
then  another,  to  free  herself  from  his  tenacious  grasp.  "I 
vow  I'll  go  and  tell  papa  every  blessed  word  of  this,  and  if 
you  stay  another  night  under  the  same  roof  with  me,  my 
name's  not  Pctronilla.  Take  your  claw  from  my  arm,  will 
you  ?  and  let  me  go  1  " 

Pet  jerked  and  pulled  in  vain ;  Mr.  Garnet  held  her  fast, 
and  smiled  a  grim',  sardonic  smile  at  her  futile  eltorts. 

"  Spit  and  snarl,  my  little   kitten,"  he  said   mockingly  ; 


d  Garnet, 
livid  witlj 
igh  me  to 
just  hear 
)u  will  rue 
at  red  and 
iiKide  me 
;  scorned  I 

Dt  as  good 
agiarizing, 
,  beware  I' 
Bandit  of 
reading  it 
and,  at  the 
n.  It's  not 

will  come 

as  I  have 

spise  Roz- 

vvith  flash- 
,  my  good 
r  master's 
jel  Garnet, 
hipped  out 
gentleman 
e  this!  I 
m  angel,  I 


hreatening 


e  way,  and 


;rasp. 


I 


his,  and  if 
ith  me,  my 
y  arm,  will 

d  her  fast, 
torts, 
nockingly  ; 


PET  GIVES  HER  TUTOR  A  LESSON.      235 

«« see  what  a  sparrow  you  are  in  my  grasp.     Go  you  shall 
not,  till  it  is  my  good  pleasure  to  release  you  1  " 

With  a  sharp,  passionate  cry  of  rage,  Petronilla  darted 
down  like  lightning,  and  sunk  her  sharp,  white  teeth  mto 
his  hand  The  red  blood  spurted  from  a  little  circlet  of 
wounds,  and  with  an  oath  of  pain  and  fury,  he  sprung  back 
from  the  little  wild-cat.  No  sooner  was  his  hold  released, 
than  Pet  darted  like  a  flash  through  the  door,  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock  and  held  him  '--.ptive.  ,.,,•» 

''  Aha  1  Mr.  Garnet  1 "  she  cried,  exultmgly ;  "  little  kittens 
can  bite  as  well  as  sna..,  you  see.  You  caught  a  Tartar 
that  time— didn't  you  ?  You're  a  model  gentleman  ;  you  re 
the  saint  that  ought  to  be  canonized  on  the  spot ;  you're  the 
refined  scholar-am't  you  ?  I'll  leave  you,  now,  to  discover 
the  charms  of  solitude,  while  I  go  and  tell  papa  the  lesson  1 
have  taught  you  this  morning.  A  little  fasting  and  solitary 
imprisonment  wont  hurt  your  blood  in  the  least.  Bon  jour, 
Sei-neur  Don  Monsieur  Moustache  Whiskerando!  May 
voirr  guardian-angel  watch  over  you  till  I  come  back  and 
keep  you  from  bursting  a  blood-vessel  in  your  rage.  If  any- 
thing should  happen  to  so  precious  an  individual,  society 
might  as  well  shut  up  shop  at  once,  so  the  gods  have 
a  ?are   of   you,  Mr.    Rozzel   Garnet!"     And   off   danced 

Pot.  .  .       , 

In  the  dining-room  she  found  her  father  awaiting  her. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Garnet  ?  "  he  asked  as  she  entered. 

"  Mr  Garnet  will  not  be  down  to  dinner,"  said  Pet,  in- 
wardly uetermining  to  keep  that  gentleman  as  long  impris- 
oned as  she  could.  ,        . 

The  judge,  without  troubling  himself  to  inqmre  further, 
took  his  seat,  and  proceeded  to  administer  condign  punish- 
ment to  the  good  things  spread  before  him,  assisted  by  Pet, 
whose  appetite  was  by  no  means  impaired  by  the  pleasant 
scene  she  had  just  passed  through,  and  whose  stony  con- 
science was  not  in  the  least  troubled  with  remorse  for  hav- 
ing locked  a  young  gentleman  up  without  his  dinner. 

About  ten  minutes  after,  the  judge  started  to  leave  the 
room,  and  Pet,  guessing  where  he  was  going,  called  to  him : 

"Papa!"  ,         .  , 

"  Well,"  said  the  judge,  pausing,  and  turning  round. 

«  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 


.  ■feii.j^ 


laiwn 


236 


THK  GYPvSV  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i    i 


"  To  the  library,  Miss  Lawless,"  said  the  judge,  with 
dignity. 

"  Well,  look  here,  papa,  there's  a  prisoner  of  war  in 
there." 

"  What,  Miss  Lawless  ?  "said  the  judgc.knitting  his  brows 
in  perplexity. 

"  A  prisoner  I  have  taken — captivated — locked  up  !  In 
other  words,  the  pupil  has  turned  teacher  and  locked  her 
master  up,  as  mothers  do  refractory  children,  to  bring  him 
to  his  senses." 

"  Miss  Lawless,"  .said  the  judge,  in  his  most  stately  man- 
ner, "  I  have  no  time  to  listen  to  your  nonsense.  If  you 
have  anything  to  say —say  it.  If  not,  hold  your  tongue,  and 
learn  to  be  respectful  when  you  address  your  father." 

"  Well,  I  never  !  "  (ejaculated  Pet.  "  No  matter  how  seri- 
ously, sensibly,  or  solemnly  I  talk,  people  say  I'm  talking 
nonsense.  Ikit  that's  just  my  fate ;  everything  awful  and 
horrid  is  destined  to  happen  to  me ;  and  if  I  say  a  word 
against  it,  I'm  told  I'm  imprudent  and  ungrateful,  and  dear 
knows  what.  Now,  I  told  you  I  have  locked  my  teacher 
up,  and  you  tell  me  you  have  no  time  to  listen  to  my  nor- 
sense,  I  guess  Mr,  Garnet  tinds  it  an  unpleasant  truth, 
anyway." 

'•  Petronilla  !  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  her  father,  begin- 
ing  to  think  there  might  be  method  in  this  madness. 

••  Why,  tlmt  I've  locked  Mr.  Garnet  up  in  the  library  for 
not  behaving  himself,"  said  Pet,  promptly. 

'•  Locked  him  up  !  " 

••  Ves,  sir ;  and  served  him  right,  too,  the  hateful  old 
ghoul  !" 

"  Locked  your  teacher  up  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  teachers  requii\-  locking  up  as  well  as  pupils." 

"  Miss  Lawless,  it's  not  possible  that  you  have  been  guilty 
of  such  an  outrageous  act!"  said  the  judge,  with  an  awfuJ. 
frown. 

"Yes,  it  is  possible,"'  said  Pet ;  "  and  he  deserves  twice 
as  much  for  what  he  did.  C)h,  wouldn't  I  like  to  be  a  man 
for  one  blessed  half-hour,  that  I  could  horsewhip  him  within 
an  inch  of  his  life  !  " 

Good    IIeaven>  1    wiiat  a  visitation    this  n\ad 
What  has  Mr.  Garnet  done,  you  dreadful  girl  ?  " 


girl  is  I 


idge,  with 

of  war  in 

his  brows 

i  up  !  In 
)cl<c'tl  her 
)riiig  him 

itely  inan- 
.  If  you 
nr^ue,  and 
r." 

how  seri- 
m  talking 
wful  and 
ly  a  word 
and  dear 
y  teacher 
my  non- 
nt    truth, 

er,  begin- 

s. 

ibrary  for 


teful    old 


s  pupus. 
:en  guilty 
an  awful 

I'es  twice 
be  a  man 
im  within 

i    girl  is  1 


r 


PET  GIVES  HER  TUTOR  A  LESSON.      237 

«« Dreadful  girl  1  "  burst  out  Pet,  indignantly,  "  there's  the 
way  I'm  abused  for  taking  my  own  part.  Your  daughter  s 
teacher  has  been  making  all  sorts  of  love  to  me  all  the  whole 
blessed  morning  1 "  and  thereupon  Pet  commenced  with  a 
"  full,  true,  and  authentic"  account  of  her  monung  mterview 

'"  A^i'the^imige  listened,  the  scowl  on  his  brow  grew  blacker 
and  blacker  till  his  face  was  like  the  doublc-rehncd  essence 
of  a  thunderbolt.  IJut  when  Pet  mentioned  Ins  threats  and 
indignity  in  refusing  to  free  her,  his  rage  burst  all  bounds, 
and  his  wrath  was  a  sight  to  see.  ,,,.,,       ,     j 

M  The  villain!  the  scoundrel  1  the  blackleg!  the  low-bred 
hound!  to  dare  to  talk  to  my  daughter  m  such  a  w-iiy  1  1 
vow  to  Heaven  I  have  a  good  mind  to  break  every  bone  in 
his  body  1  To  insult  my  daughter  under  her  father  s  roof^ 
and  threaten  her  like  this!  Petronilla,  where  is  the  key? 
I'll  kick  the  impertinent  puppy  out  of  the  house.  ^    _ 

"  The  key's  in  the  door,"  said  Pet.  -  I  expect  he  s  in  3 
sweet  frame  of  mird  by  this  time."  . 

Up  stairs,  in  a  highly  choleric  state,  marched  the  judge- 
and  tiu-ning  the  key  in  the  library-door,  he  confronted  Mr. 
(lunet,  who  was  striding  up  and  down  the  room  ui  a  way 
not  oarticularlv  beneficial  to  the  carpet,  with  Hashing  eyes, 
scowling  browb,  and  an  awful  expression  of  countenance 
generally,  and  began,  in  a  tone  of  withering  sarcasin  : 

"  So,  Mr.  Garnet,  you  have   done  my  daughter  the  honor 
to  propose  for  her  hand  this      orning,  and   when  thai  digit 

was  refused  you,  you  caught ,  and  had  the  impudence  to 

insult  her  in  her  father's  house.     Oh !  you're  a  model  teacher 
of  youth.  Mr.  Garnet  1     You're  an  exemplar^   young  man  to 
be  tr      cd  with  the  education  of  a  young  female.    Come,  sir. 
out  of  my  house,  and  if  ever  I  catch   sight  of  you  agam.  1  U 
cane  you  while  I'm  able  to  stand.     Off  with  you  tl^s  in^ 
stani."     And  the  jud'   •,  who  was  as  strong  as  half  a  dozen 
broken-down  roues  like    Garnet,  caught  hii  1    by  tlie  co  lar 
and  unceremoniously  dragged  him  down  stairs.     In  vain  the 
^«^W.7;«  teacher  strove  to  free  himself,  and  make  his  voice 
heard ;  not  a  word  would  ih.  judge  listen  to  ;  but  upon  reach- 
in-  the  hall  door,  landed  him  by  a  well-applied   kick  on  the 
bro:-  1   of  his  back,  and  then  in,  slamming  the  door  i-' 

his  face. 


1!! 


•zit%trt 


238 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


Crestfallen  and  mortified,  Mr.  Garnet  picked  himself  up, 
and  glancing  hurriedly  around,  beheld  Petronilla  standing 
laughingly  watching  him  at  the  window.  A  very  fiend  seemed 
to  leap  into  his  eyes  then,  and  shaking  his  fist  at  her,  he 
strode  off  breathing  words  of  vengeance,  "  not  loud,  but 
deep." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


MR.  TOOSVPEGS  IN  DISTRESS. 


"Ah,  me  !  for  aught  that  I  could  ever  read, 
Could  ever  hear  by  tale  or  history 
The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth." 

—Shakespeare. 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  it's  kind  of  you  to  ask,  but  I  ain't 
\sell  at  all ;  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs,  in  a  deeply  dejected  voice,  as  he  walked  into  the  par- 
lor of  the  White  Squall  and  took  his  seat  without  ever  rais- 
ing his  eyes  from  the  floor. 

"  Stand  from  under  I  "  growled  the  admiral,  in  a  tone  like 
a  bear  with  the  bronchitis,  as  he  gave  his  glazed  hat  a  slap 
down  on  his  head,  and  looked  in  a  bewildered  sort  of  way 
at  the  melancholy  face  of  Mr.  O.  C.  Toosypegs. 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  it's  my  intention  to  stand  from  un- 
der as  much  as  possible,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  mournfully; 
'  but,  at  the  same  time,  I'm  just  as  miserable  as  ever  I  can 
be,  thank  you.  I  don't  see  what  I  was  born  for  at  all,  either. 
I  dare  say  they  meant  well  about  it ;  but  at  the  same  time,  I 
don't  see  what  I  was  born  for,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with 
increased  mournfulness. 

The  admiral  laid  both  hands  on  his  knees,  and  leaning 
over,  looked  solemnly  into  Mr.  Toosypegs'  face.  Reading 
no  expression  whatever  in  that  "  Book  of  Beauty  "  but  the 
mildest  sort  of  dispair,  he  drew  himself  up  again,  and  grunt- 
ed out  an  adjuration  to  "heave  ahead." 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  would  you  oblige  me  by  not  saying 
that  again  ? "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  giving  a  sudden  start, 
and  keeping  his  hand  to  his  stomach  with  a  grimace  of  ir- 
tensest  disgust.     "  You  mean   real  well,  I  know ;  but  it  re^ 


' » 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS  IN  DISTREvSS. 


239 


calls  unpleasant  recollections  that  I  wish  buried  in  oblivion. 
Ugh !  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  a  convulsive  shudder. 

The  admiral  looked  appealingly  at  the  great  painting  on 
the  mantel ;  but  as  that  offered  no  suggestion,  he  took  off 
his  hat,  gave  his  wig  a  vigorous  scratching,  as  if  to  extract 
a  few  ideas  by  the  roots,  and  then  clapping  it  on  again, 
faced  around,  and  with  renewed  vigor  began  the  attack. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  I'm  considerable  out  of  my  lati- 
tude, and  if  you'll  just  keep  her  round  a  point  or  so,  I'll  be 
able  to  see  my  way  clearer,  and  discover  in  which  corner 
the  wind  sets.     What's  the  trouble,  young  man  ?  " 

"  The  trouble,  Admiral  Havenful,  is  such  that  no  amount 
of  words  can  ever  express  it.  No,  Admiral  Havenful !  "  ex- 
claimed the  unhappy  Mr.  Toosypegs,  "all  the  words  in  all 
the  dictionaries,  not  to  mention  the  spelling  books,  that 
ever  was  printed,  couldn't  begin  to  tell  you  the  way  I  feel. 
It  worries  me  so,  and  preys  on  my  mind  at  such  a  rate  that 
my  appetite  ain't  no  circumstance  to  what  it  used  to  be.  My 
Sunday  swallow-tails  (the  one  with  the  brass  buttons.  Admiral 
Havenful),  that  used  to  barely  meet  on  me,  goes  clean  around 
me  twice  now.  I  don't  expect  to  live  long  at  this  rate,  but  I 
guess  it's  pleasantest  lying  in  the  graveyard  than  living 
in  this  vale  of  tears,"  added  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  a  melan- 
choly snuffle. 

Once  again  the  perplexed  admiral  looked  helplessly  at 
the  picture  ;  but  the  work  of  art  maintained  a  strict  neu- 
trality, and  gave  him  not  the  slightest  assistance.  Then  he 
glanced  at  Mr.  Toosypegs,  but  still  nothing  was  to  be  read 
in  those  pallid,  freckled  features,  but  the  mildest  sort  of 
anguish.     The  admiral  was  beginning  to  lose  patience. 

"  Belay  there  I  belay  1  "  he  roared,  bringing  his  fist  down 
-with  a  tremendous  thud  on  his  unoffending  knee.  "  Come 
to  the  point  at  once,  Orlando  Toosypegs  1  What  the  dickens 
is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  don't  swear  1 "  exclaimed  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, looking  deeply  scandalized.  "  I  dare  say  you  mean 
well ;  but  profane  swearing  isn't  so  edifying  as  it  might  be. 
I've  a  little  tract  ?t  home  that  tells  about  a  boy  that  told 
another  boy  to  '  go  to  blazes  1 '  and  three  years  after  he  fell 
out  of  a  fourth-story  window  and  broKc  tv/o  Oi  uiS  iSgs,  anu 
some  of  his  arms.     That  shows  the  way  profane  swearing  is 


I* 


J,^>mLJ.LM.A%iiiT 


'31  Wini 


240 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


punished.  I'll  bring  you  over  the  book  some  day,  Admiral 
Havenful,  if  you  like  ;  it's  a  very  interesting  story  to  read 
about." 

The  admiral  fell  back  with  a  groan. 

"  I  haven't  read  anything  lately  but  the  '  Lamentations  of 
Jeremiah,'  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  resuming  his  former  objec- 
tions ;  "  it's  very  soothing  to  the  feelings,  though  I  can't  lay 
it  to  heart  so  much  as  I  would  like  to,  on  account  of  Aunt 
Priscilla  scolding  all  the  time.  She  means  real  well,  I  know, 
but  it  ain't  so  pleasant  to  listen  to  as  sorr.e  things  I've  heard. 
I  laid  awake  all  last  night  crying,  but  it  don't  seem  to  do 
me  much  good." 

And  Mr.  Toosypegs  wiped  his  eyes  with  his  handkerchief. 

The  ad.niral  said  nothing  ;  he  had  evidently  given  up  the 
point  in  dispair. 

"I  wouldn't  mention  this  to  anybody  but  you,  Admiral 
Havenful,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs;  "  because  my  feelings  are 
so  dreadfully  lacerated  it's  a  great  affliction  to  me  to  speak 
of  11.  I  know  you  won't  tell  anybody  that  I've  revealed  it, 
because  I  would  feel  real  bad  about  it  if  you  did." 

"  Orlando  Toosypegs,  just  stand  by  a  minute,  will  you  ?  " 
said  the  admiral,  in  the  tone  of  a  patient  but  persecuted 
saint.  "Now,  hold  on — what  have  you  revealed  to  me? 
what  have  you  told  me  ?  There's  two  questions  I'd  feel 
obliged  to  anybody  to  answer." 

"  Why,  my  goodness  1  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  much  sur- 
prise, "  haven't  I  told  you  ?  Why  I  thought  I  had.  Well, 
then.  Admiral  Havenful,  I've  went  and  fell  in  love,  and 
that's  all  there  is  about  it." 

"  Maintopsail  haul  !  "  roared  the  admiral,  immeasurably 
relieved  ;  "  who'd  ever  have  thought  it  ?  Who  is  she,  Or- 
lando ?  "  said  the  admiral,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  husky 
whispct^ 

"  Vour  n:ece.  Miss  Pet  Lawless,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
blushing  deeply. 

This  announcement  took  the  admiral  so  much  by  surprise 
that  he  could  only  give  vent  to  it  by  another  appealing 
glance  at  the  picture,  and  a  stifled  growl  of  "  Splice  the 
main-brace  I  " 

"  Admiral  ILivenful,  it's  my  intention  to  splice  the  main- 
brace  as  much  as  possible.     I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you," 


i 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS  IN  DISTRESS. 


241 


i 


said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  gratefully,  "but,  at  the  same  time,  I'm 
afraid  it  won't  do  me  the  least  good.  I  know  very  well  she 
don't  care  anything  about  me,  and  will  go  and  marry  some- 
body else  some  day.  liy  gracious  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, with  the  energy  of  desperation,  "  I've  a  good  mind  to 
go  and  do  something  to  myself,  whenever  I  think  of  it. 
Why,  it's  enough  to  make  a  fellow  go  and  heave  himself 
away  into  an  untimely  grave — so  it  is." 

"  Don't,  Orlando,  don't,"  said  the  admiral,  in  a  tone  of 
grave  rebuke ;  "  it's  not  proper  to  talk  so.  When  you  come 
to  overhaul  your  conscience  ,  by-and-by,  you'll  be  sorry  for 
such  rash  threats.  Now,  look  here — I'm  going  to  talk  to 
you  for  your  own  good.  Does  Pet  know  you've  gone  and 
splashed  your  affections  onto  her  ?  " 

"  Good  gracious,  no  1  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  much 
alarm ;  "  I  wouldn't  tell  her  for  anything — no,  not  for  any 
amount  of  money  you  could  give  me  for  doing  it,  Admiral 
Havenful. — Oh,  my  goodness  I  the  idea  1  why,  she  would 
laugh  at  me.  Admiral  Havenful." 

"  Avast  there,  messmate  1  avast  I  "  growled  the  admiral, 
administering  a  thump  to  his  glazed  hat.  "  Now,  look  here. 
When  a  young  man  goes  and  falls  into  love  with  a  young 
woman,  what  does  he  do  ?  or,  what  do  they  do  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  looking  dejectedly  at  the  carpet ;  "  I  never  was 
in  love  before,  you  know,  and  it's  just  the  queerest  feeling 
ever  was.  I  never  experienced  anything  like  it  before.  It's 
not  like  the  colic,  or  the  toothache,  or  a  cramp,  or  any- 
thing :  you  feel — well,  I  don't  know  as  I  can  describe  it ;  but 
you  kind  of  feel  all  over.  And  whenever  I  meet  Miss  Pet 
suddenly  and  she  turns  them  two  great,  black  eyes  of  hers 
right  onto  me — my  gracious  1  Admiral  Havenful,  the  state 
it  sets  me  into  1  Why,  I  actually  feel  as  if  I'd  like  to  crawl 
out  of  the  toes  of  my  boots  or  have  the  carpet  open  and 
swallow  me  up." 

And,  Mr,  Toosypegs,  carried   away  by  the  exciting  recol 
lection,  got  up  and  paced  up  and  down  two  or  three  times, 
and  then  dropped  back  into  his  seat  and  began  wiping  his 
heated  visage  with  the  flaming  bandanna  so  often  spoken  of. 

"  Belay  i  belay  i  '  said    the  admiral,    impatiently  ;  "  you're 
Steering  in  the  wrong  direction   altogether,  Orlando.     Now, 


I  'J 

i 


12SMI  i^  9  SWU" 


*ai  w#« 


42 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


•:'.  1 


lii 


look  here;  I  asked  you,  'when  a  young  man  goes  and  falls 
in  love  with  a  young  woman,  what  does  he  do  ? '  and  says 
you  '  I  don't  know,  Admiral  Havenful.'  Well,  now  look  here ; 
I'll  tell  you.  When  a  young  man  goes  and  falls  in  love  with  a 
young  woman,  7i>/iaf  does  he  do  ?  Why,  Orlando  Toosypegs, 
he  goes  and  marries  her.     That's  what  he  does  I  " 

And  hereupon  the  admiral  administered  another  vigorous 
slap  to  his  glazed  hat,  that  very  nearly  stove  in  the  crown  of 
that  ill-used  head-piece  ;  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  looked 
with  excusable  triumph  and  exultation  at  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
Tiiat  young  gentleman  gave  a  sudden  start,  such  as  people 
are  in  the  habit  of  giving  when  they  sit  on  a  tin  tack  turned 
up,  and  got  very  red,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Orlando  Toosypegs,"  reiterated  the  ad- 
miral, bringing  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand  impressively 
down  on  the  palm  of  his  left,  "  they  goes  and  gets  married. 
That's  what  they  does." 

Mr.  Toosypegs  gave  another  start,  which  could  only  be 
justified  by  the  idea  of  another  upturned  tin  tack,  and 
blushed  deeper  than  ever,  but  still  replied  never  a  word. 

"  They  goes  and  gets  married.  That  there's  what  they 
does,"  repeated  the  admiral,  folding  his  arms  and  leaning 
serenely  back,  like  a  man  who  has  settled  the  matter  forever. 
"  And  now,  Orlando  Toosypegs,  in  the  words  of  Scripture," — 
here  the  admiral  got  up  and  took  off  his  glazed  hat — "  '  go 
thou,  and  do  likewise.'  " 

And  then  clapping  his  hat  on  again,  with  a  triumphant 
slap,  he  sat  down  and  'ooked  Mr.  Toosypegs  straight  and 
unwinkingly  in  the  face. 

"Admiral  Havenful,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  I'm 
sure,"  said  the  "  lovyer,"  in  a  subdued  tone;  "but — but 
maybe  she  wouldn't  have  me.  She  might,  just  as  likely  as 
not,  say  '  No,'  Admiral  Havenful." 

This  was  a  view  of  the  case  the  admiral  had  never  once 
taken,  and  it  took  him  so  completely  "  aback,"  to  use  his 
own  phrase,  that  he  could  only  cast  another  appealing  glance 
at  the  picture  and  growl  a  low,  bewildered  adjuration  to  so- 
ciety in  general,  to  "  Stand  from  under  1  " 

"  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  she  said  *  No,'  Admiral 
Havenful ;  not  one  bit,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  mournful- 
ly ;  "  it's  my  luck,  always,  to  have  the  most  dreadful  things 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS  IN  DISTRESS. 


243 


go 


u,  I'm 

: — but 
t\y  as 


happen  to  me  I  I  declare  it's  enough  to  make  a  fellow  mad 
enough  to  go  and  do  something  to  himself — it  actually  is." 

"  Don't  now,  Orlando,  don't  now,"  said  the  admiral,  se- 
verely ;  "  it  isn't  proper,  you  know,  and  you  really  shouldn't. 
There's  a  proverb  I'm  trying  to  think  of,"  said  the  admiral, 
knitting  his  brow  in  intense  perplexity ;  "  you  know  the 
Book  of  Proverbs,  Orlando,  don't  you  ?  Hold  on,  now,  till  I 
see :  '  Fain  ' — no — yes,  '  P'ain  heart — fain  heart  never  won  a 
fair  lady.'  "  Again  the  old  sailor  reverentially  removed  his 
hat.  "  That's  it,  Orlando  j  '  fain  heart  never  won  fair  lady.' 
Now,  look  here:  you  go  straight  along  and  ask  Firefly  if 
she's  willing  to  cruise  under  your  flag  through  life,  and  if 
she  lays  her  hand  in  yours,  and  says  '  I'm  there,  messmate  I ' 
by  St.  Paul  Jones  I  we'll  have  such  a  wedding  as  never  was 
seen  in  old  Maryland  since  Calvert  came  over.  Hoorah  1  " 
yelled  the  admiral,  waving  his  hat  over  his  head  in  an  un- 
expected outburst  of  delight,  that  quite  startled  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs. 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  I'll  doit!  I  will,  by  granny  !  "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Toosypegs  jumping  up  in  the  excitement  of  the 
moment.  "  I'll  go  right  straight  over  to  Heath  Hill  and  ask 
her.  Why,  she  actually  might  say  *  Yes,'  after  all.  Oh,  my 
gracious  1  if  she  does,  won't  it  be  nice  ?  What  will  aunt  Pris- 
ciller  say  ?  Admiral  Havenful,  it  was  real  kind  of  you  to  advise 
me  so,  and  tell  me  what  to  do;  and  I'm  ever  so  much 
obliged  to  you — I  really  am,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  bus- 
tling around,  and  putting  on  his  hat,  and  turning  to  go. 

"  Keep  her  to  the  wind's  eye !  "  roared  the  admiral,  m  a 
burst  of  enthusiasm,  as  he  brought  one  tremendous  sledge- 
hammer fist  down  with  an  awful  thump  on  the  table. 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  it  is  my  intention  to  keep  her  to  the 
wind's  eye  as  much  as  possible,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  who 
comprehended  the  sentence  about  as  much  as  he  would  a 
Chinese  funeral-oration.  "  Good-by,  now  ;  I'll  come  right 
back  when  it's  over,  and  tell  you  what  she  said." 

And  IhvC  the  frog  immortalized  in  Mother  Goose,  who 
"  would  a-wooing  go,"  Mr.  O.  C.  Toosypegs  "  set  olf  with 
his  opera-hat,"  on  that  expedition  so  terrifying  to  bashful 
young  men — that  of  going  to  "  pop  the  question." 


Hr 


'.#M'< 


"rerrr 


'211  w#^ 


«44 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


-I    ( 


I    . 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

PET    "  RESPECTFULLY    DECLINES." 

•'  Doubt  the  stars  are  fire- 
Doubt  the  sun  doth  move — 
Doubt  truth  to  be  a  liar, 
But  never  doubt  I  love."— Hami^et. 

In  all  the  ardor  of  his  momentary  excitement,  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs  got  astride  of  a  serious-looking  pony,  a  family  relation 
of  the  admiral's  favorite  nag,  Ringbone,  and  set  out  at  a  shuf- 
flmg  gallop  for  Heath  Hill.  Mr.  Toosypegs  did  not  look 
quite  so  pretty  on  horseback  as  some  people  might  suppose : 
for  he  went  jigging  up  and  down  with  every  motion  of  his 
steed,  and  being  remarkably  long  in  the  legs,  his  feet  were 
never  more  than  a  few  inches  from  the  ground  ;  so  that 
altogether,  he  was  not  the  most  dashing  rider  you  would 
have  selected  to  lead  a  charge  of  cavalry.  But  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs was  not  thinking  of  his  looks  just  then,  but  of  a  far 
more  important  subject— trying  to  screw  his  courage  to  the 
sticking-point.  The  further  he  went,  the  faster  his  new- 
found courage  began  oozing  away.  As  the  White  Squall 
receded,  so  did  his  daring  determination  ;  and  as  the  full 
extent  of  the  mission  he  was  on  burst  out  on  him,  a  cold 
perspiration  slowly  burst  out  on  his  face,  despite  the  warmth 
of  the  day. 

awful :  I  know  it  is  !  " 
.)cgs,  wiping  his  face  with  the  cuff  of 
his  coat.  "  And  1.  w  I'm  ever  going  to  get  through  with  it, 
I'm  sure  I  don't  knov,-.  I  wish  to  goodness  1  had  never 
said  nothing  about  it!  If  only  knew  any  man  that's  in 
the  hai)it  of  proposing,  he  could  tell  me  bow  tliev  do  it. 
and  tiicn  I  wouldn't  mind.  But  now — by  granny !  I've 
a  good  mind  to  turn,  and  go  right  back  to""  Dismal  Hol- 
low. But  then,  the  admiral— what  will  he  say  ?  Well,  I 
don't  care  what  h.-  says.  How  would  he  like  to  go  and 
pop  the  question  himself,  I  wonder  ?     By  gracious  !   fwill  go 


"  Good  gracious  !  it's  going  to  be 
exclaimed  Mr.  T 


PET  "RESPECTFULLY  DECLINES."       245 

back.  It's  no  use  thinking  about  it ;  for  I'd  sooner  be 
chawed  alive  by  rattlesnakes,  and  then  kicked  to  death  by 
grasshoppers,  than  go  and  tell  Miss  Pet  the  way  I  feel. 
I  couldn't  tell  her  the  way  I  feel ;  its  the  most  peculiar 
sensation  ever  was.  And  them  black  eyes  of  hers  1  Land 
of  hope  and  blessed  promise  I  the  way  they  do  go  right 
through  a  fellow's  vest  pattern  I  How  in  the  world  so 
many  men  can  manage  to  get  married  is  more  than  I  know ; 
for  I'd  sooner  march   up  to  the  muzzle  of  a    pistol   while 

'^"    ^' Whoa, 

Dismal 


Old    Nick  held  the    trigger,    than   go    and    do   it ! 


going 


home 


It 
to 


Charlie  1       Turn    round.       I'm 
Hollow  1  " 

Whir,  whir,  whir!  came  something,  with  lightning-like 
rapidity,  over  the  soft  heath.  Mr.  Toosypegs  turned  round  ; 
and  there  came  Miss  Pet  herself,  flying  along  like  tlie  wind, 
on  her  fleet  Arabian,  her  cheeks  crimson,  her  splendid  eyes 
blazing,  her  red  lips  smiling  ;  her  short,  jetty  curls  flying  in 
the  wind  she  herself  raised  ;  her  long,  raven-black  plume 
just  touching  her  scarlet  cheeks ;  the  red  rings  of  flame 
flashing  out  in  the  sunlght  from  her  dazzling  eyes  and 
hair.  She  was  bewildering,  dazzling,  blinding  !  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs had  his  breath  completely  taken  away  as  his  heart  had 
long  since  been,  and  in  that  moment  fell  more  deepy,  deplor- 
ably, and  helplessly  in  love  than  ever.  Every  idea  was 
instantaneously  put  to  flight  by  this  little  dark,  bright  bird- 
of-paradise---this  blinding  little  grenade,  all  fire,  and  jets, 
and  sparkles. 

"  Halloa,  Orlando  !  Your  very  humble  servant !  "  shouted 
Pet,  as  she  laughingly  dashed  up,  touching  her  hat  gallantly 
to  the  gentleman.  "  Hov/  does  your  iniperial  highness  find 
yourself  this  glorious  day  ?  " 

"  A— pretty  miserable,  thank  you.  A — I  mean  I  ain't 
very_  well,  Miss  Pet."  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  stammering,  and 
breaking  down. 

"  Not  very  well,  eh?  Why,  what's  the  matter?  Not 
cholera-morbus,  or  measles  or  a  galloping-decline,  or  any- 
thing—is it  ?  "  said  Pet,  in  a  tone  of  deepest  anxiety.  "  The 
gods  forbid  anything  should  happen  to  you,  Orlando,  for  the 
sake  nf  all  Tudestown  L'^irls  wliose  hearts  ynu  hnvf  broken  ' 
You  do  look  sort  of  blue — a  prey  to  'green  and  yellow 
melancholy,'  I  shouldn't  wonder  I    Make  Miss  Priscilla  apply 


X^^tFtw 


■a  I  wn 


246 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


a  mustard-poultice  when  you  get  home — it  doesn't  matter 
where — and  go  to  bed  with  your  feet  in  a  tub  of  hot  water, 
and  I'll  bet  you  a'^ytlnng  you'll  be  as  well  as  ever,  if  not 
considerably  better,  in  the  morning.  I'm  going  to  take  in 
nursing  some  of  these  days,  and  ought  to  know  I  " 

"  Miss  Pet,  it's  real  good  of  you  to  advise  me,  and  I'm 
very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  gratefully  ; 
"  but,  at  the  same  time,  I  don't  believe  mustard-poultices 
and  tubs  of  hot  water  would  do  me  the  first  mite  of  good. 
No,  Miss  Pet,  not  all  the  hot  water  in  all  the  hot  springs 
that  ever  was,  could  do  me  the  least  good,"  said  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  firmly.  "  I'm  in  that  state  that  nothing  can  do 
me  any  good— no,  no,  nothing  I  "  repeated  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
with  increased  firmness.  "  It's  all  internal,  you  see,  Miss 
Pet."  '  ' 

"  Oh  1  is  it  ? "  said  Pet,  puckering  up  her  mouth  as  if  she 
was  going  to  whistle.  "  You  ought  to  take  something,  then, 
and  drive  it  out  I  Hot  gin,  or  burnt  brandy  and  cayenne  is 
good— excessively  good — though  not  so  nice  to  take  as  some 
things  I've  tasted.  Just  you  take  a  pint  or  so  of  hot  burnt 
brandy  and  cayenne  to-night,  before  going  to  bed,  and  you'll 
see  it  will  be  all  out  in  a  severe  rash  early  to-morrow  morning. 
I'm  advising  you  for  your  good,  Orlando ;  for  I  fell  like  a 
motner  to  you — in  fact,  I  feel  a  motherly  interest  in  all  the 
nice  young  men  in  Judestowr  and  the  surrounding  country 
generally,  for  any  extent  you  please,  and  am  always  ready  to 
give  them  no  end  of  good  advice,  if  they  only  take  it." 

"  It's  real  good  of  you.  Miss  Pet  I'm  sure,"  said  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  wincing,  as  the  very  thought  of  the  hot  brandy 
and  cayenne  brought  tears  to  his  eyes,  "  and  I  would  be 
real  glad  to  take  your  advice,  and  brandy,  only  what  ails  me 
can't  be  brought  out  in  a  rash.  No,  Miss  Pet,  all  the  brandy 
from  hereto  Brandywine,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs — with  a  hazy 
idea  that  all  ardent  spirits  came  from  that  place — "  couldn't 
do  it.  It"s  real  good  of  you,  though,  to  recommend  it ;  and 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  I'm  sure." 

"  Well,  really,  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  give  the  case  up, 
though  I  hate  to  do  it.     What's  the  symptoms,  Orlando  ?  " 

"  The  what.  Miss  Pet  ?  " 

'*  The  symptoms,  you  know— I  don't  exactly  understand 
the  word  mvself ;  and  I  forgot  my  dictionary  when  I  was 


PET  "RESPECTFULLY  DECLINES."       247 

coming  away.     It  means,  though,  the  feelings  or  something 
that  way — how  do  you  feel  as  a  general  thing  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  I  feel  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
mournfully.     "  I'm  sort  of  restless,  and  can't  sleep  of  nights  I  '"' 

"  Ah  I  that's  owing  to  the  musketoes  1  "  said  Pet.  "  That 
ain't  dangerous.     Go  on." 

"  No,  Miss  Pet  it's  not  the  musketoes;  it's  my  feelings," 
said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  increased  mournfulness.  "  I've 
lost  my  appetite  1  " 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  I  don't  wonder  at  that,  either,"  again 
interrupted  Pet.  "  Miss  Priscilla  half-starves  you  over  there 
—I  know  she  does.  Just  you  come  over  and  dine  with  us 
two  or  three  times  a  week,  at  Heath  Hill,  and  you'll  be 
astonished  slightly  at  the  way  you'll  hnd  your  appetite  again. 
Oh,  I  don't  despair  of  you  at  all  1  " 

"  Miss  Pet,"  burst  out  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  sort  of 
desperation,  "  it's  very  good  of  you  to  ask  me,  and  I'm  very 
much  obliged  to  you;  but  you  don't  understand  my  feelings 
at  all.     It's  an  unfortunate  attachment — " 

"  An  attachment  ?  "  exclaimed  Pet.  "Whew  !  that  is  bad. 
Why,  Orlando,  I  didn't  thmk  you  owed  anybody  anything. 
When  was  this  attachment  issued  against  you  >  " 

"  Oh,  Miss  Pet  I  can't  you  understand  ?  My  gracious  I  that 
ain't  the  sort  of  attachment  I  mean  at  all.     It's  not  legal—" 

"  Then  it's  illegal,"  said  Miss  Pet,  with  a  profoundly- 
shocked  expression  of  countenance.  "  Why,  Mr.  Toosy 
pegs,  where  do  you  expect  to  go  to  ?  I  never-  ex- 
pected to  have  any  such  confession  from  your  lips. 
An  illegal  attachment  I  Mr.  Toosypegs,  the  community 
generally  look  upon  you  as  a  highly  exemplary  young  man, 
but  I  feel  it  my  painful  duty  to  announce  to  them  immedi- 
ately how  they  have  been  deceived.  An  illegal  attachment  1 
Oh,  my  stars  and  garters  1  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  but 
after  such  a  highly  improper  confession,  I  must  bid  you  good- 
morning.  No  young  and  unsuspecting  female  like  me  can 
be  seen  with  propriety  in  your  company  for  the  future.  I 
am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  and  I  should  never  have 
suspected  you  of  such  shocking  conduct  had  you  not  con- 
fessed it  yourself."  And  Pet  drew  herself  up,  and  r.i,t  on 
that  severely-moral   expression   only  seen   on  the  faces  of 


•^i%Mn 


248 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i! 


school-mistresses  and  committeemen  when  lecturing  young 
ideas  on  the  proper  way  to  shoot. 

"  Good  gracious  1 "  exclaimed  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a 
distracted  tone,  nearly  driven  out  of  his  senses  by  tliis 
harangue.  "  Oh,  land  of  hope  !  was  a  fellow  that  never 
done  nothing  to  nobody  ever  talked  to  like  this  before  ?  By 
granny  1  it's  enough  to  make  a  fellow  get  as  mad  as  any- 
thing ;  so  it  is  1  Why,  Miss  Pet,  I  haven't  done  anything 
improper— I  wouldn't  for  any  price;  upon  my  word  and 
honor,  I  wouldn't.  I've  fell  in  love  with — a — with — a  young 
lady,  and  I  don't  see  where's  the  harm  of  it.  It's  unkind  of 
you,  Miss  Pet,  to  speak  so,  and  I  don't  see  what  I've  ever 
done  to  deserve  it.  You  mean  real  well,  I'm  sure,  but  it 
makes  a  fellow  feel  bad  to  be  talked  to  in  thi?  way  all  the 
time,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  a  stifled  whimper. 

"  Well,  there,  don't  '  ry,  Orlando,"  said  Pet,  soothingly, 
"  and  I  v,on't  say  another  word.  What  young  lady  have 
you  had  the  misfortune  to  fall  in  love  with  ? " 

"Miss  Pet,  excuse  me,  but  I — I'd  rather  not  tell,  if  it's  all 
the  same,"  replied  Mr.  Toosypegs,  blushing  deeply. 

"Oh,  fool  I  tell  me,  as  a  friend,  you  know.  Won't  ever 
mention  it  again,  so  help  me  !     Do  I  know  her?" 

"  Ye— yes,  Miss  Pet,  slightly." 

"  Hem  !     It  isn't  Annie  Grove?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Pet — why,  she's  forty  years  old,  if  she's  a  day," 
said  Mr.   Toosypegs,  indignantly. 

"Yes,  I  know — twenty-five,  she  says;  but  she's  been  that 
as  far  back  as  the  oldest  inhabitant  can  remember.  Well, 
then,  Jessie  Masters  ?  " 

"  Miss  Pet,  allow  me  to  say  I  ain't  in  the  habit  of  falling 
in  love  with  women  with  wooden  legs,"  said  the  young  gen- 
tleman, with  dignity. 

"Well,  I  didn't  know;  it's  cheaper,  in  shoe-leather,  espe- 
cially.    Hem-m-ni  1     Perhaps  it's  Mrs.  Jenkins  ?  " 

"Mrs.  Jenkins!  a  widow  I  No,  Miss  Pei,  it  ain't.  I 
should  think  you  might  know  I  don't  like  second-hand 
women,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  as  near  being  indignant  as 
he  ever  was  in  his  life. 

"  Well,  who  the  mischief  can  it  be  then  !  It  must  be 
Huldah  Rice." 

"  A  little  stout  thing,  with — with  a  hump,  and  cross-eyes  ? 


PET  "RESPECTFULLY  DECLINEvS. 


249 


Miss  Pet,  it  ain't  1  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  tears  of 
vexation  in  iiis  eyes. 

"  Not  her,  either?  then  I  give  up.     Who  is  it,  Orlando  .>  " 

"  Miss  Pet,  I  don't  like  to  tell— you'll  laugh  at  me,"  said 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  blushing  deeply. 

"Laugii  !  No,  I  won't  ;  honor  bright!  I'll  look  as  grim 
as  a  deatlv's-head  and  cross-bones  !     Now  then,  out  with  it !" 

"  Miss  Pet,  it's— it's— " 

«  Yes— well  ?  " 

"  It's—" 

"  Well  ? " 

"  It's  ^vw,"  fairly  shouted  Mr.  Toosypegs,  driven  to  des- 
peration by  her  perseverance. 

•'  Me !  O  ye  gods  and  goddesses,  without  skirts  or 
bodices  !  Me  I  Great  Jehosaphat  1  I'll  know  what  it  feels 
like  to  be  unexpectedly  struck  by  a  cannon-ball,  after  this  1 
Me  !    Well,  I  never  !  " 

"  Miss  Pet,  I  knew  you  would  laugh  ;  I  knew  it  all  along, 
and  I  told  him  so  this  morning,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with 
a  sniflle  ;  "  you  mean  well,  I  dare  say,  but  it  don't  seem  kind 
at  all." 

•'  Laugh  I  "  exclaimed  Pet ;  "  come,  I  like  that,  and  my 
face  as  long  as  an  undertaker's  !  You  may  take  a  microsope 
and  look  from  this  until  the  week  after  next,  and  then  you 
you  won't  discover  the  ghost  of  a  smile  on  my  countenance. 
Laugh,  indeed  1  I'm  above  such  a  weakness,  I  hope,"  said 
Pet,  with  ineffable  contempt. 

"  Then,  Miss  Pet,  perhaps  you  will  have  me,"  said  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  with  sudden  hope.  "  Miss  Pet,  I  can't  begin  to 
tell  you  the  way  I  love  you  ;  you  can't  have  any  idea  of  it ; 
it  goes  right  through  and  through  me.  I  think  of  you  all 
day,  and  I  dream  about  you  all  night.  I'm  in  the  most 
dreadful  way  about  you,  ever  was.  Miss  Pet,  I'd  do  any- 
thing you  told  me  to.  I'd  go  and  drown  myself  if  you 
wanted  me  to,  or  shoot  myself,  or  take  ratsbane,  and 
rather  like  it  than  otherwise,  if  you'll  only  have  me,  Miss 
Pet—" 

"  Orlando,  I'm  very  sorry;  but — I  can't." 

"  Miss  Pet,  you  don't  mean  it ;  you  can't  mean  it,  surely. 
I  know  I  ain't  so  good-looking  as  some,"  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, in  a  melancholy  tone ;  "  but  I  can  get  something  to 


f 


III 


"Til  %^t% 


250 


THR  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i  I 


take  the  freckles  olT,  and  I  expect  to  fatten  out  a  little  by- 
ancl-bv,  so--" 

•'  Now,  don't  go  to  any  such  trouble  for  me,"  said  Pet, 
with  diffculty  keeping  from  laughing  at  his  mildly-anguished 
look.  "  I  don't  mind  the  freckles  at  all ;  I  rather  like  them, 
in  fact;  they  vary  the  monotony  of  the  complexion,   just  as 

oases  do  in  the  deserts  we  read  of ;  and  as  for  being  thin 

well,  I'm  rather  on  the  hatchet-pattern  myself,  you  know. 
But  you  must  quit  thinking  about  me,  Orlando,  because  I  m 
only  a  wild  little  Tomboy,  that  everybody  gets  furious  about, 
and  I  never  intend  to  get  married  at  all—that  is,  unless-^ 
well,  never  nuiul," 

"  Miss  Pet,  if  you  only  knew  how  badly  in  love  I  am." 

"  Oh,  you  only  think  so ;  you'll  forget  me  in  a  week  I  " 

"  I'll  never  forget  you,  Miss  Pet,  never— not  even  if  I  was 

to  be  taken  out  of  this  world  altogether,  and  sent  up  to  New 

Jersey.     It's  awful  to  think  you  won't  have  me— it  really  is," 

said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  great -mental  distress. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,  Orlando,  but  I  can't  lielp  it,  you  know. 
Now  be  a  good  boy  for  my  sake,  and  try  to  forget  me — won't 
you  ?  "  asked  Pet,  coaxingly. 

"I'll  try  to,  Miss  Pet,  since  you  wish  it,"  said  poor  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  with  tears  in  his  eyes ;  "  but  it's  blamed  hard. 
I  wish  to  gracious  I  had  never  been  born— I  just  dol  I 
don't  see  where  is  the  good  of  it  at  all." 

"  Oh,  now,  Orlando,  you  mustn't  feel  bad  about  it,  because 
It  won't  amount  to  anything,''  said  Pet,  in  a  consoling  tone; 
"  don't  let  us  talk  any  more  about  it.  Guess  what  I  heard 
•ast  night  over  at  Judestown." 

'I  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Miss  Pet,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
2:iving  his  eyes  and  nose  a  vigorous  wiping  with  his  hand- 
kerchief. 

"  Well,  then,  that  the  gang  of  smugglers  who  have  been 
for  so  long  a  time  suspected  of  having  a  rendezvous  around 
the  coast  somewhere,  have  been  seen  at  last.  Two  or  three 
of  them  were  observed  pulling  off  in  a  boat,  the  other  night, 
and  going  on  board  a  dark,  suspicious-looking  schooner,  an- 
chored down  the  bay.  They  are  known  to  have  a  hiding- 
place  somewhere  around  here,  but  the  good  folks  of  Judes- 
town r.in't  discover  it,  and  consequently  arc  in  a  state  of 
mmd  at  having  such  desperadoes  near  them.     I  am  going 


GRKEK  MEETS  GRI.EK. 


351 


to  hunt  all  over  the  shore  far  and  near  ivsclf,  this  very  day, 
an;l  see  if  my  eyes  are  not  shaiper  than  those  of  the  lucies- 
town  officials.  Oh,  1  would  love,  of  all  things,  to  discover 
their  hiding-place  ;  ;,erhaps  my  smartness  wouldn't  astonish 
the  natives  slightly." 

"  But,  good  gracious,  Miss  Pet  1  if  they  get  hold  of  you," 
said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  his  blood  ruiiiiing  chill  with  horror  at 
the  very  idea  ;  "  why,  it  would  be  awful."' 

"  If  they  did,"  said  Pet,  "  they  would  find,  as  others  have 
done,  to  their  cost,  before  now,  that  they  had  caught  a  Tar- 
tar;  a  snap-dragon;  a  pepper-pod  ;  an  angel  in  petticoats  I 
Oh,  they'd  have  their  hands  full  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 
I'm  bound  to  go  on  my  exploring  e.xpedition  this  afternoon, 
wind  and  weather  permitting,  anyway,  and  see  what  will  be 
the  result.     Where  are  you  going,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  To  Dismal  Hollow,  or — no.  I've  got  to  go  to  the  White 
Squall,  first." 

"Very  well;  I  wo",  -letain  you,  then.  I'm  olf  to  Judes- 
town     good-by  ;  romemLu  •  me  to  uncle  Harry," 

And  giving  he  j:iunty,  ,-'umed  hat  another  gallant  touch. 
Firefly  dashed  ofi,  l« yiaf;  Vir.  Toosypegs  gazing  dejectedly 
after  her  until  the  L  v,  (\M*-.ir  of  her  dark  riding-habit  vanished 
amid  the  trees ;  and  wien  he  slowly  and  mournfully  turned 
his  solemn-faced  nag  in  the  directii  ri  of  the  White  Squall, 
to  tell  the  admiral  the  unsatisfactory  result  of  his  proposal. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


GREEK    MEETS    GREEK. 

"  •  I  scorn,'  quoth  she,  « thou  coxcomb  silly, 
Quarter  or  counsel  from  a  foe. 
If  thou  canst  force  me  to  it,  uu.'  "— Hudibras. 

"  I  had  rather  chop   this  hand  off  at  a  blow. 
And  with  the  other  fling  it  in  thy  face. 
Than  stoop  to  thee."  — Shakspeare. 

Petronilla  rode  gayly  along  to  the  little  bustling,  half- 
village,  half-city,  Judestown,  thinking  over  her  late  surprising 
proposal,  and  scarcely  knowitig  whether  to  laugh  at  or  pity 
poor  Mr.  Toosypegs.    As  she  reached  the  town  these  thoughts 


UM   It  9    IWfT 


'31  Wn 


252 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


were  dispelled  by  the  busy  scenes  aiound,  and  Pet  found  her- 
self fully  occupied  in  nodding  to  her  various  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances as  she  passed. 

Pet's  destination  was  the  post-office,  a  large  building  which 
served  as  a  store,  hotel,  and  post,  all  in  one.  As  she  drew 
rein  at  the  door,  the  mail-coach  drew  up,  and  Pet  lingered 
where  she  was  a  moment,  in  order  to  avoid  the  crowd. 

The  passengers  crowded  in,  and  as  the  coach-door  opened. 
a  young  gentleman  sprung  out  and  assisted  a  lady,  closely 
veiled,  to  alight.  Neither  of  them  noticed  Pet ;  so  they  did 
iiot  observe  her  quick  start,  her  sudden  flush,  and  the  vivid 
lighting  up  of  her  beautiful  eyes. 

These  outward  and  very  unwonted  signs  of  emotion  on 
Pet's  part  passed  away  as  quickly  as  they  came,  and  in  one 
minute  more  she  was  as  cool,  saucy  and  composed  as  ever. 

"  Is  there  any  one  here  who  will  drive  us  to  Old  Barrens 
Cottage  ?  "  said  the  young  gentleman,  glancing  at  the  land- 
lord. 

"Yes,  sir;  in  ten  minutes,  sir;  just  step  in,  sir;  my  boy's 
gone  off  in  a  gig  with  a  gent,  but  he'll  be  back  soon.  Walk 
right  in  this  way,  sir,"  replied  the  obsequious  landlord,  witli 
a  profusion  of  bows  to  the  well-dressed  aud  distinguished- 
looking  stranger  before  him. 

"I  would  rather  not  wait,"  said  the  gentleman.  "Can 
you  not  let  me  have  some  other  conveyance,  and  I  will  cfrive 
over  myself  ?  " 

"  Very  sorry,  sir,  but  they're  all  engaged.  Just  step  in, 
sir.  you  and  your  good  lady,  sir." 

Pet  fancied  she  heard  a  low.  sweet  laugh  from  under  the 
thick,  brown  veil,  and  the  gentleman  smiled  as  he  folknvcd 
the  bustling  host  into  the  well-sanded  parlor. 

In  one  moment  Pet  was  off  her  horse,  and  consigning 
him  to  the  care  of  tlie  hostler,  darted  in  by  a  side  door  and 
rung  a  peal  that  presently  brouglit  the  hostess,  a  pleasant- 
faced,  fat,  little  woman,  in  a  tremendous  flutter,  into  the 
room. 

"  Laws  1  Miss  l\'tronilla,  is  it  you  ?  Why,  you  haven't 
been  to  see  me  this  long  time.     How  do  you  do  ?  " 

"  I'm  very  well,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Gudge ;  but  see  here— 
did  you  notice  that  gentleman  and  lady  who  have  iust  gone 
into  the  parlor }  " 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK. 


253 


"  That  tall,  handsome  young  man,  with  all  them  there 
mustaches? — yes,  I  seen  him,  Miss  Pet." 

'*  Well,  do  you  know  who  he  is  ?  " 

"  No ;  though  it  does  kinder  seem  to  me  as  if  I'd  seen  him 
somewhere  before.  The  lady,  his  wife,  I  take  it,  kept  her 
veil  down,  and  I  couldn't  see  her  face.  No;  I  don't  know 
'em.  Miss  Pet." 

"Well,  that  don't  matter;  I  do.  And  now,  Mrs.  Gudge, 
I  want  you  to  help  me  in  a  splendid  piece  of — of — " 

"  Mischief,  Miss  Pet,"  said  the  woman,  slyly. 

"  No,  not  exactly — just  fun.  I  want  you  to  bring  a  suit 
of  your  son  Bob's  clothes  up  here.  I'm  going  to  dress  my- 
self in  them,  and  when  he  comes  with  the  gig  let  me  drive 
them  over.  My  riding-habit  and  pony  can  remain  here  till 
I  send  for  them." 

"  Now,  Miss  Pet — " 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Gudge,  don't  bother  nif: :  Go,  like  a  dear 
old  soul.     I'll  give  you  a  kiss  if  you  do.' 

"  But  the  judge—" 

"Oh,  the  judge  won't  know  anything  about  it  unless  you 
tell  him.  There,  be  off  1  I  want  to  be  dressed  before  Bob 
comes.  If  you  don't  hurry  I'll  lost  he  most  splendid  joke 
ever  was.  Hurry  now  1  Put  Mr.  Gudge  up  to  it,  so  the 
cat  won't  get  out  of  the  bag." 

With  a  deprecating  shake  of  her  head  and  upturning  of 
her  eyes,  the  little  hostess  bustled  out,  inwardly  wondering 
what  "  Miss  Pet  would  do  next." 

Pet,  in  the  meantime,  with  her  wicked  black  eyes  scin- 
tillating with  the  prospect  of  coming  fun,  was  rapidly  divest- 
ing herself  of  her  hat  and  riding-habit.  And  then  little  Mrs. 
Gudge  made  hur  appearance  with  her  son  and  heir's  "  .Sun- 
day-go-to-meetin's  "  and  stayed  to  assist  the  fairy  in  her 
frolic,  and  find  out  who  the  handsome  owner  of  the  "  mus- 
tarchcrs  "  was.  Ikit  Pet  was  as  close  as  a  clam,  and  only 
laughed  at  the  landlady's  "  pumping,"  while  she  dived  des- 
perately into  Bob's  pants  and  coat,  which — except  being 
narrow  where  Pet  thought  they  ought  to  be  wide,  and  wide 
where  they  ought  to  be  narrow,  fitted  her  very  well.  Then 
she  combed  her  short,  dancing,  black  curls  to  one  side,  over 
her  round,  boyish  forehead,  and  setting  upon  them  a  jaunty 
Scotch  cap,  stood  there,  bright,  saucy,  and  smiling,  as  hand- 


"31  w«ni 


254 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


h 
If 


r 


some  and  dashing  a  little  fellow  as  you  could  see  in  a  long 
summer-day.  ° 

"  Well,  laws !  you  do  make  a  pretty  boy  and  no  mistake 
Miss  Pet,"  said  the  woman,  admiringly ;  "  them  handsome 
eyes  of  yours  and  shaking,  shining  curls  is  jest  the  thing  1  But 
your  hands— they're  a  heap  too  small  and  deliky-lookinff  for 
a  boy's.  '  ° 

"Oh!  well,  I'll  rub  some  mud  on  them  when  I  get  out 
They're  not  the  whitest  in  the  world  anyway  ;  and  besides^ 
they  won  t  look  very  closely  at  a  little  cab-boy's  hands  " 

"  Now,  if  you  want  to  be  like  a  boy,  you  must  take  loner 
steps,  and  stick  your  hands  in  your  pockets,  and  swear! 
Can  you  swear.  Miss  Pet  ?  "  said  the  woman,  seriously 

"Well,  I  never  tried,"  said  Pet,  laughing;  "and  as  I 
don  t  know  any  oaths  off  by  heart,  I  guess  I  won't  mind,  for 
fear  the  effect  wouM  be  a  failure." 

..  *,7u^  ""  ?}^y  y''''  '^°"'^'"  ^""'^  ^'^-  Gudge,  thoughtfully  , 
all  boys  allers  swears  at  the  horses.  You  must  look  sassy 
—  but  that  comes  natural  enough  to  you;  and  you  had  better 
smoke  a  pipe  or  chew  some  tobacco,  on  the  road— which 
will  you  do,  Miss  Pet  ?  " 

"Well,  really,  Mrs.  Gudge,  I'd  rather  not  do  either,  if  it's 
all  the  same  to  you,"  said  Pet ;  "but  you  mus'n't  keep  call- 
ing me  '  Miss  Pet,'  you  know;  my  name's  Bob,  now,  Bob 
Gudge." 

"  So  it  is.  Laws  !  if  it  ain't  funny ;  but  I'm  afraid  they'll 
hnd  you  out  if  you  don't  do  none  of  those  things.  Can  vou 
whistle.  Miss— Bob,  I  mean  ?  " 

For  reply.  Pet  puckered  up  her  rosy  mouth,  and  whistled 
Hail  Columbia,"  in  away  that  made  little  Mrs.  Gud-^e's 
eyes  snap  with  delight. 

"  Here  comes  Bob !  "  she  cried,  as  a  gig  came  rattling  into 
the  yard.  "  You  wait  here  a  minute  and  I'll  fix  thines  all 
right.  '  ° 

Out  flew  Mrs.  Gudge,  and  called  ofT  Bob  to  some  secret 
corner,  and  then  she  showed  her  head  in  at  the  door  and 
called  : 

"  Come,  now.  Miss— Bob,  and  drive  round  t  the  front 
door  while  I  tell  the  lady  and  gentleman  all's  right  now  " 

Pet,  imitating  Bob's  shuffling  swagger,  went  out  to  the 
yard,  sprung  up  on  the  front  seat,  took  the  reins,  and«  io 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK. 


255 


masterly  style,  turned  the  horses,  and  drove  around  to  the 
front  door. 

Scarcely  had  she  got  there  and  struck  up  "  Hail  Columbia  " 
in  her  shrillest  key,  than  the  dark,  handsome  gentleman 
with  the  "  mustarchers  "  came  out  with  the  lady,  who  was 
still  veiled,  followed  by  the  host  and  hostess,  on  whose  faces 
rested  a  broad  grin.  Pet,  with  her  cap  pulled  over  her  eyes, 
to  shade  them  from  the  hot  sun,  and  also  to  subdue  their 
dark,  bright  splendor  a  little,  sat  whistling  away,  looking  as 
cool  as  a  cucumber,  if  not  several  degrees  cooler. 

The  young  gentleman  handed  the  lady  in,  and  she  took 
her  place  on  the  back  seat. 

"  Now,  Minnie,  I'm  going  to  sit  here  with  the  driver  and 
have  a  chat  with  him,"  said  the  young  man  ;  "  these  cun- 
ning little  vagrants  know  everything." 

The  shrill  whistle  rose  an  octave  higher. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  young  lady,  in  low,  laughing  tones  ; 
"  anything  to  put  an  end  to  that  piercing  whistle.  I  suppose 
he  cannot  talk  to  you  and  whistle  together  ? " 

"  Can't  I,  though  ?  "  thought  the  small  urchin,  who  held 
the  reins.  "  We'll  see  that.  Miss  Erminie  Germaine,"  and 
higher  and  higher  still  rose  the  sharp,  shrill  notes. 

"  Come,  my  lad,  start,"  cried  the  gentleman,  springing  in, 
"  and  if  it's  not  too  much  trouble,  might  I  request  you  to 
stop  whistling  ?  It  may  be,  and  no  doubt  is,  owing  to  our 
bad  taste,  but  we  cannot  appreciate  it  as  it  deserves." 

"  Don't  see  no  harm  in  whistling ;  nobody  never  objects 
to  it,"  said  Pet,  imitating  to  perfection  the  gruff,  surly  tones 
of  Master  Bob.  "I'm  fond  of  music  myself,  if  you  aint, 
and  so  is  the  hoss,  who  would  not  go  a  step  if  I  didn't 
whistle;  so  I'll  just  keep  on  if  it's  all  the  same  to 
you." 
And  another  stave  of  <'  Hail  Columbia  "  pierced  the  air. 

"  How  long  does  it  take  you  to  drive  to  the  Barrens  I  " 

"  Well,  sometimes  longer  and  sometimes  shorter ;  and 
then  again  not  so  long,"  said  the  driver,  touching  the  horse 
daintily  with  his  whip. 

''Quite  enlightened,  thank  you!  Do  you  know  the 
family  at  old  Barrens  cottage  ?  " 

"  There  ain't  no  family  there  ;  there's  only  the  old  woman 
what  can't  walk  or  nothin' ;  and  a  nigger.     Them  two  don't 


"raCU! — in-79 — f 


on 


256  TPIE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

make  one  whole  member  of  society,  let  Plone  a  family      Was 
you  acquainted  witli  them,  square  ?  " 

''  Slightly  so,"  said  the  gentleman,  smiling. 

'-Well,  n.ayhe  you  knew  that  there  cove  that  went  awav 
— young  Mr.  R;iy.>"  ^ 

,'•1   believe   I   had   that  honor,"   replied   the  young  man 
with  the  snule  still  on  his  handsome  face.  " 

"Honor!  humph  I  I  reckon  you're  the  only  one  ever 
thought  It  an  honor  to  know  him,"  said  the  lad,  grimly  "  He 
a  ways  was  a  vagabones,  and  ended  as  all  vagabonds  must, 

For  one  moment  the  young  gentleman  glanced  at  the 
driver,  evidently  hesitating  whether  to  pitch  him  then  and 
there  out  of  the  gig  or  not ;  but  seeing  only  a  little  boy 
with  an  exceedingly  muddy  face,  he  thought  better  of  it,  and 

"  Well  this  is  really  pleasant  to  listen  to  1  And  how  did 
this  vagabones,  as  you  call  him,  end }  " 

"  Why,  he  was  sent  away  from  home,  when  they  couldn't 
stand  him  any  longer;  and  the  last  we  heard  of  him  was 
that  he  was  in  State  Prison  for  life." 

^    A  low  peal  of  laughter  from  the  young  lady  followed  this 
m  which,  after  a  prolonged  stare  of  astonishment,  the  gentle^ 
man  was  obliged  to  join.  ^ 

^^"Well,  for  cool  innate  impudence,  and  straightforward 
uiuntness,  I  11  back  you  against  the  world,  my  good  youth  " 
said  the  young  man,  while  the  little  driver  sat  looking  as 
sober  as  a  judge.  ^ 

her  .^^'""^  ^^^  ■^'''""^  ^""'^^  ""'^^  ^'''^^  ^^^^^'  '^^^^  ^e^^^e  of 
"  There  wasn't  never  no  young  lady,"  said  the  lad  ;  "  there 
was  a  little  gal  with  yaller  hair,  but  she  went  ofif,  too  •  and  I 
expect,  ran  away  with  some  one-eyed  fiddler  or  other  They 
was  English,  and  no  better  couldn't  have  been  expected," 
said  the  boy,  in  strong  accents  of  contempt. 

Another  low  laugh  from   the  young  lady  and  a  prolonged 
whistle  from  the  gentleman  followed  this. 

"  Well,  I   am  sorry  my  friends  have  turned  out  so  badly 
Ho^y  about  the  others,  now  ;  Judge  Lawless  and  his  family, 
for^  instance;  Admiral  Havenful,  Mr.  and  Miss  ToosvDe^s 
uuu  the  rest  ? "  * .   =  > 


lily.     Was 

went  away 

3ung  man, 

one  ever 
Illy.  "He 
•nes  must, 

:d  at  the 
then  and 
little  boy 
of  it,  and 

1  how  did 

couldn't 
him  was 

wed  this, 
ie  gentle- 

itforward 
I  youth," 
oking  as 

icame  of 

;  "  there 
• ;  and  I 
.  They 
pected," 

oionged 

0  badly. 

1  family, 
•svoeffs. 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.       257 

"  They're  all  hanging  together  !  Mr.  Toosypegs  is  gou.> 
to  ge  married  and  take  in  sewing  for  a  living  t  and  Mis 
I'nscilla  goes  round  making  vinegar." 

"  Making  what  ?  " 

"Vinegar,"  said  the  lad,  gravely.     "  The  grocers  gets  her 
'medTately '^        '       °^  ''^^''''  ""''''"  ^^"^^  *"'"'  into  vinegar 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  the  gentleman,  laughing  ;  -  but 

I  ?;^''1--J"dge  Lawless,  Miss  Lawless,  what  of  ht-i^  ?  " 
Oh,  she  s  all  right.     Don't  expect  she'll  be  Miss  Lawless 
though,  much  longer,"  said  the  boy. 

"No  }  why  .?  how  ?  what  do  you  mean  .?  "  said  the  voun^ 
gentleman,  starting  so  suddenly  that  the  boy  looked    ud 
apparently  quite  terrified  by  this  unexpected  outburst 

"  See  here,  square,  you'll  skeer  the  hoss  if  you  keep  on 
Ike  this.     If  you're  subjick  to  'tacks  of  this  kind  you  ought 

A.u    r  *°'1  '"^  ^^^°'^  '^^  ^^^'■^^^'  ^"d  not  'larm  the  hoss  " 
said  the  boy,  sharply.  ' 

"  Tell  me  what  you  mean  by  that  >  Speak  I  "  said  the 
young  man,  vehemently. 

"  By  what .?  skeering  the  hoss  ?  "  said  the  lad 

"  Oh  I'weU  f  h'  ^':^''''"  ^f'  l^^  ™P^^"°"«  r^i°^"der. 
r,-.^  T  -i)?  '  ^^^\hearn  tell  she  was  goin'  to  be  mar. 
ried      Likely  zz  not  she  is  too  ;  got  lots  of  beaux." 

The  young  gentleman's  face  flushed  for  a  moment,  and 
then  grew  set  and  stern. 

"  Did  you  hear  who  she  was  to  be  married  to  ?  "  said  tha 
young  lady,  leaning  over. 

"  ^.°' J"m"^ '  "°^"dy  "ever  can  tell  what  she'll  do  ;  likelv 

marry.     She  a  ways  was  the  contrariest  young  woman  always 
hat  ever  was,"  said  the  boy,  casting  a  quick%right,  search! 

afe^I?T.       ";,  ""^''  '?  ]°"-  eyelashes,  at  th?  handsome 
face  of  the  gentleman.     And   it   was  a  handsome   face   the 

I'Z  hTk^^'^'k''  ''''  '''''y  ""^^  ^'■'^^^  hnd  ever  seen  ;  and 
1  might  hnve  been  its  close  proximity  to  its  owner  that  sent 
such  quick  thnlls  to  the  heart  of  the  quondam  boy,  an.d  set 
Th.  H  !  '°,  """ecessarily  fast  under  the  jaunty  black  coat, 
the  th./l. '  •  ?f '  "rP^^^'°"  5  '^'^  straight,  classic  features  ; 
thp  h^^ai-  ^''';7""b  "^Hr;  cne  hign,  princely  brow; 
the   bold,  flashing,  falcon,    black   eyes;  the   thin,   curving 


I  Mi  I 


258 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


ff 


nostril,  that  showed  his  high  blood ;  the  proud,  haughty 
mouth,  shaded  by  a  thick,  black  mustache  :  the  tall,  slight, 
elegant  form  ;  the  'ligh,  kingly  movements — these  made  up 
the  outward  attractions  of  him  by  whose  side  Pet  sat.  Of 
i  (..r.rse,  every  reader  above  the  artless  age  of  five  knows  as 
1'  eil  as  I  do  who  it  is,  so  there  is  not  the  slightest  necessity 
xor  announcing  his  name  as  Raymond  Germaine. 

There  was  a  long  silence  after  this.  The  youiig  gentleman, 
with  a  cold,  almos't  sarcastic  look,  watched  the  (IJects  as 
they  passed,  and  tic.  little  boy  drove  on,  whi^jtlih^  as  if  his 
life  dependerl  on  it. 

Then  the  young  lady  leaned  over  arid  began  a  conversa- 
tion in  a  low  voice  v  ith  her  companion,  to  whir  b  he  replied 
in  the  same  tone.  The  lady  had  thrown  back  her  veil,  dis- 
closing a  face  of  such  rare  love]r.-;ei>s  that  it  seemed  a  down- 
right shame,  not  to  say  sin,  to  hide  it  behind  that  odious 
brown  covering.  The  driver  turned  round  tc  catch  a  better 
view  of  her  face,  and  the  young  lady  met  the  lull  splendor 
of  those  dazzling  dark  orbs.  The  boy  inst;uitly  turned,  and 
bega?  whistling  louder  than  ever. 

"  '(.Vliat  a  hjuulsonie  boy  1  "  said  the  young  girl,  in  a  low 
tone,  yet  load  enough  for  the  "boy"  in  question  to  hear. 
"What  .;-?ndid  eyes!  I  thought  there  could  be  but  one 
such  pair  ■/  eyes  in  the  world,  and  those — " 

Her  companion  made  a  slight  gesture  that  arrested  the 
name  she  would  have  uttered  ;  and  glancing'. .  t  the  boy,  said, 
rather  coldly : 

"  Yes ;  he  is  handsome,  if  his  face  was  washed." 

"  Now,  Ray,"  said  the  young  lady,  laughing,  "  that  is 
altogether  too  bad.  Those  radiant  eyes  are  destined  to 
break  many  a  heart  yet." 

"  That  they  are  !  "  mentally  exclaimed  the  lad. 

"  How  fortunate  for  some  of  your  admirers,  Ermie,  he  is 
not  a  few  years  older,"  said  Ray  (we  may  as  well  call  him  so 
at  once,  and  have  done  with  it).  "  Those  dark,  bright,  hand- 
some eyes  wouldn't  have  left  you  the  faintest  trace  of  a  heart ; 
and  then  what  would  poor  Ranty  have  done  ?  " 

"  Pshaw,  Ray,"  said  Erminie,  with  a  most  becoming  blush, 
'*  what  nonsense  !  Oh,  look  !  we  are  almost  home.  There 
is  Dismal  Hollow,  and  there — there —  I  declare  1  that's  Mr, 
Toosypegs  himself,  riding  out  of  the  pine  woods.     Why,  he 


I 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  259 

hasn't   changed    the  least  in  the  world  since   I  saw   him 

The  little  driver  gave  his  cap  a  pull  further  over  his  face 
as  Ray  shouted  to  Mr.  Toosypegs. 

The  next  moment,  that  disconsolate  wooer  was  by  the  side 
of  the  g.g,  shakmg  hands  with  Ray  and  Erminie,  and  askin' 
a  dozen  questions  in  a  breath.  ^^^kui^ 

"  How  did  you  come  ?     When  did  you  come  >     How  did 

Th-^d  Mr:  xtyp^rs!'^  '""""'''  '''  '"^'°"'^''^''  »''  "  ^ 

"I  called  for  Erminie  at  her  convent.  She  is  not  goinff 
back  any  more ;  my  visit  will  probably  be  a  short  one.  I 
hope  Miss  Toosypegs  and  all  our  friends  are  well  >  " 

"  Yes ;  all  well.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  vou  Did 
you  pass  through  Judestown .? ''  ^  ^ 

"  Of  course.     How  else  could  we  get  here  >  " 

"  And  didn't  you  meet  Miss  Pet  ?  " 

"  Miss  Lawless  ?  No.  Was  she  at  Judestown  ?  "  said 
Ermmie  eagerly ;  while  Ray  found  something  so  attractive 

from  ?t      «or  t"V"m  f  -VP--'^^^  --°-  ^-  -ye 
mudil''  ""^  ^'^^^  '°^^^^-  seen  her  so 

'^u^V  ^\%  '""""^  ^"^  Judestown  this  morning,  and  has  not 
fT^^"^-  ,,^y  S«°dness  I  it  is  the  greatest  wo^nder  you  didn' 
see  her.    Wha    a  pity  she  didn't  know  you've  come  I  she 
would  be  here  m  a  flash." 

"Is  she  to  be  married,  do  you  know,  Mr.  Toosypees  ?" 
^^u    1""?'?'  '"  ^  ^""^  ^°^^e ;  "  we  heard  she  was  "  ' 

The  little  boy  glanced  from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  and  saw 
a  faint  red  on  the  dark  cheek  of  the  tall,  handsome  Spanish 
looking  gentleman  beside  him.  '  "^P^"'^^ 

Mr.  Toosypegs  turned  pale  ;  even  his  very  freckles  turned 
the  color  of  buttermilk  curds  at  the  question 
Oh  ?'t  """""^"^ '    (goodness  gracious  1    I  was  just  saying  so. 
?n  'J      K  /'"^.r"  '^^  ^°"^^  SO  and  heave  herself  away 
UinnreP''  °  "  '''  ^°"^  ''  ""'  "^^"^^d  ^°'  Miss 

"I  don't  know;  it  was  this  little  boy  who  told  us,"  said 
Erminie,  glancing  toward  him. 

lad,  shortly  '"""    """^^  "ciiuer;  only  hearn  teii,''  said  the 


1?Wt  " 


If   « 1.11  "f 


|!iv 

h  .  ■ 


260 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"  Perhaps  it  is  only  a  report.  When  will  you  come  over  to 
the  cottage,  Mr.  Toosypegs  ?  " 

M  This  evening,  Miss  Minnie ;  and  I  guess  Aunt  Prisciller 
will  come,  too.  She  hasn't  had  any  new  caps  or  collars  since 
you  went  away,  and  has  ever  so  many  to  get  made." 

"Very  well;  I  will  make  them.  Good-by,  till  then,**  said 
Erminie,  smiling  as  they  drove  on. 

A  short  time  sufficed  to  bring  them  to  the  cottage. 

The  driver  was  invited  in,  but  declined,  and  turned  to  go. 

"  If  you  see  Miss  Lawless  on  your  way,  will  you  tell  her  to 
hurry  here  ?  "  said  Erminie,  as  she  alighted. 

"  Yes'm  ;  all  right  1  "  said  the  boy,  closing  his  hand  over 
the  coin  Ray  gave  him ;  and  then  touching  his  cap  to  Er- 
minie, dashed  away. 

Lucy's  delight  exceeded  all  bounds  at  beholding  "  young 
mars'r  and  missis"  again  ;  and  then  Ray  and  Erminie,  with 
some  difficulty,  extricated  themselves  from  her  violent  ca- 
resses, went  up- stairs,  and  entered  the  room  of  Ketura. 

Many  and  sad  were  the  changes  years,  and  sorrow,  and  a 
sort  of  chronic  remorse  for  her  past  acts  had  wrought  in  her. 
She  sat  in  a  large  easy-chair,  unable  to  move  any  portion  of 
her  body  but  her  head ;  her  hard,  dark,  grim  face,  bony, 
sharp,  and  hollow,  the  protruding  bones  just  covered  by  a 
wrinkled  covering  of  skin  ;  but  the  fierce,  blazing,  black  eyes 
were  still  unchanged. 

Erminie,  with  the  exclamation,  "  My  dearest  grandmoth- 
er !  "  went  over,  and  throwing  her  snowy  arms  around  her 
neck,  kissed  the  dark,  withered  cheek. 

The  old  woman  glanced  at  her,  and  saw  the  now  beautiful, 
feminine,  but  perfect  image  of  Lo.d  Ernest  Villiers.  The 
same  large,  dark,  beautiful  violet-blue  eyes ;  the  same  fair, 
silken,  golden  hair  ;  the  same  clear,  transparent  complexion  ; 
the  same  elegant,  graceful  movements ;  the  very  expression 
of  the  features  complete.  All  her  old  hatred  revived  at  the 
sight  of  the  lovely,  high-born  girl.  With  a  quick,  fierce 
gesture,  she  pushed  her  aside,  and  strove  to  glance  around 
for  the  other  she  expected. 

Ray  stepped  forward,  and  touched  his  Hps  tenderly  to  her 
forehead. 

Holding  his  hand,  she  made  him  stand  off  where  she  could 
the  better  see  him,  and  then  she  scrutinized  him  from  head 


'I- 


fje  over  to 

Prisciller 
lars  since 

len,"  said 


led  to  go. 
tell  her  to 

land  over 
ap  to  Er- 

5  "young 
inie,  with 
iolent  ca- 
ura. 

iw,  and  a 
ht  in  her. 
ortion  of 
:e,  bony, 
red  by  a 
lack  eyes 

andmoth- 
Dund  her 

beautiful, 
rs.  The 
ame  fair, 
iplexion ; 
icpression 
id  at  the 
k,  fierce 
e  around 

ly  to  her 

ihe  could 
)m  head 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK. 


261 


to  foot.  There,  before  her,  he  stood,  the  living  embodiment  of 
what  her  son  had  been  at  his  age,  the  very  image  of  him  she 
had  so  passionately  loved  and  so  sadly  lost.  She  could 
scarcely  persuade  herself  that  Reginald  had  not  risen  from  the 
grave  to  meet  her  again.  There  was  his  very  gipsy  skin, 
and  eyes  of  darkened  fire ;  the  curling  locks  of  jet,  and  tall, 
princely  form  ;  but  the  expression  of  the  mouth  was  different ; 
his  smile  was  Erminie's  exactly ;  and  altogether  there  was  a 
strong,  undefined,  puzzling  resemblance  between  them,  that 
for  a  moment  darkly  clouded  the  brow  of  the  gipsy  as  she  ob- 
served it.  The  only  being  in  the  wide  world  she  cared  for 
now,  was  Ray.  Erminie  might  win  all  other  hearts,  but  the 
gipsy  Ketura's  was  as  flint  to  her.  She  had  hated  her  from 
the  first ;  she  hated  her  still ;  she  would  hate  her  until  the 
last,  for  the  sake  of  the  race  from  which  she  sprung. 

Seeing  she  was  not  wanted,  Erminie  left  the  room  to  change 
her  traveling-dress;  and  Ray,  seating  himself  beside  his 
grandmother,  proceeded  to  tell  her  of  his  studies,  his  progress, 
his  hopes  and  ambition  for  the  future.  One  name  he  did  not 
mention,  that  of  Pet  Lawless ;  and  yet  it  was  thrilling  and 
vibrating  at  his  heart-strings,  as  he  listened  impatiently  for 
the  quick,  sharp  clatter  of  her  horse's  hoofs. 

But  hours  passed,  and  she  came  not ;  and  Ray,  angry  at 
himself  for  caring  or  feeling  so  deeply  disappointed,  de- 
scended to  join  Erminie  at  the  tea-table. 

"What  is  Miss  Lawless  to  me?"  was  the  impetuous 
thought  that  sent  the  fiery  blood  careering  to  his  brow.  "  She 
an  heiress,  and  I  a  pauper— a  beggar,  with  the  tainted  ripsy 
blood  in  my  veins.  We  were  friends— something  more, 
perhaps— in  the  years  that  have  passed ;  but  neither  of  us 
understood  our  relative  positions,  then.  No ;  proud  as  she 
is,  she  shall  never  know  I  have  dared  to  lift  my  eyes  to  her 
father's  daughter.  I  was  a  fool  to  come  on  here  at  all.  I 
have  heard  she  has  driven  dozens  of  better  men  crazy  with 
her  witchery  ;  and  can  I  rely  on  my  own  strength  to  shield 
me  from  her  arts.?  Pshaw!  she  will  not  think  it  worth 
while,  though,  to  stoop  to  flirt  with  me.  I,  a  menial,  educated 
by  the  bounty  of  her  uncle.  I  am  safe  enough,  and  will 
think  of  her  no  more." 

A  very  laudable   resolution  it  was,  on  the  young  •'^nntJo- 
man's  part,  but  one  which  he  found  some  difficulty  in  carry- 


262 


THE  GYPSY  QUERN'S  VOW. 


ing  out,  inasmuch  as  Mr.  and  Miss  Toosypegs  and  Admiral 
Havenful  ramc  in  just  then;  and  after  the  first  greetings 
were  over,  the  whole  conversation  turned  on  Pet,  lier  tricks, 
frohcs,  fiirt.itions,  capers,  and  caprices  ;  and  R^y  found  liini- 
self  Hsteninij;  with  an  intense  eagerness  that  he  was  half 
inclint-d  to  be  enraged  at  himself  for  feeling. 

Then,  just  a^  night  was  falling,  the  gallop  of  a  horse  was 
heard  loming  though  the  forest  road;  and  a  few  minutes 
later.  Pet  alighted  at  the  gate,  darted  up  the  walk,  burst,  like 
the  impetuous  little  whirlwind  she  was,  into  the:  cottage, 
.'.laS|K  '  Erminie  in  her  arms,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again, 
until  Kay — though  nothing  earthly  would  have  made  him  own 
it,  even  to  himself— would  have  given  untold  wealth  to  have 
stood  in  his  sister's  gaiters.  Three  somewhat  furi>  us  embraces, 
that  quite  took  away  Krminic's  brejith,  being  over,  Miss  Law- 
less found  time  to  glance  at  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  see^ 
ing  Ray,  as  »-r  -.^-  ^,  tall,  and  dark,  and  silent,  by  the  window, 
went  o\ci  c.nd  held  out  li^_'r  hnnd. 

There  was  something  more  nearly  approaching  to  timidity  in 
the  action,  and  in_the  quick  glance  and  quicker  dropping  of 
her  resplendent  eyes  than  anyone  had  ever  seen  Pet  manifest 
before.  Ray  bent  over  the  little  dark  hand,  whose  touch  sent 
a  quick,  sudden  thrill  to  his  inmost  heart,  and  thought  that, 
in  all  his  life,  he  had  never  seen  any  one  so  beautiful  as  she 
looked  then,  with  her  veiled  eyes,  and  drooping  ringlets,  and 
long,  waving  plumes  that  bent  over  her  hat,  touching  her 
glowing  cheeks  as  if  enamored  of  the  darkly  splendid  face 
beneath. 

"  Humph  I  A  cold  welcome,  r-y  little  Moth  -  Gary's 
Chicken,"  grunted  the  admiral.  Why  don't  you  Iciss  him 
like  you  did  Snowdrop  ?  That's  no  way  to  welcome  i  friend 
you  haven't  seen  for  three  whole  blessed  vears." 

Ray's  eyes  n..'t  hers,  and  the  color  11  ub  led  to  her  •  '-y 
brow;  then,  withdrawing   her  hand,  she  tossed  her  y 

head  till  all  her  jetty  cui  s  flashed,  and  throwing  hersf  into 
a  seat,  began  talking  to  Erminie,  as  if  for  a  wager. 

"  Who  told  you  wc  were  come  ?  "  asked  Erminie. 

"  No  one  said  Pc  l.  '<  It  war.  in  inspiration  from  on  high, 
I  expect,  tl    .  told  m    I  should  find  you  h'^re." 

**  It's  a  wonder  you  did  not  see  us  at  j  udestown ;  we  re- 
inained  there  some  time." 


GREEK  MEETS  GREE 


263 


\  Admiral 

greetings 

ler  tricks, 

3und  liini- 

was  half 

liorse  was 
'  minutes 
jurst,  like 
cottage, 
md  again, 
i  him  own 
h  to  have 
embraces, 
liss  Law- 
,  and  see^ 
t  window, 

imidity  in 
^pping  of 
manifest 
)uch  sent 
ight  that, 
ul  as  she 
jlc's,  and 
:hing  her 
idid  face 

-    Gary's 

kiss  him 

I  a  friend 

her  V  ry 
er  '  ,cy 
rsf't  into 


1  on  high, 
1 ;  we  re- 


"  Well,  how  do  you  know  I  didn't  see  you  ?  "  said  Pet. 

'•  Why,  you  surely— oh,  Pet  I  did  you  sec  us  and  never 
spoke  ?  "  said  Erminie,  reproachfully. 

"  Well,  I  s  otherwise  engaged,  you  know — in  fact,  there 
was  a  young  ntleman,  a  very  young  gentleman,  in  the  case 
— and  I  coul<  n't  very  well  have  presented  myself  any  sooner 
then  I  did,"  said  Pet. 

"  One  of  her  lovers,"  thought  Ray,  with  a  curling  lip. 

•'  Guess  what  the  little  boy,  who  drove  us  over,  told  us 
about  you,  Pet  ?  "  said  Erminie,  laughing. 

"  What  ?     Nothing  naughty,  I  hope." 

"Well,  I  don't  know;  that's  as  it  may  be.  Shall  I  tell 
you  what  he  said  ? " 

"Of  course ;  I  like  to  hear  what  people  sa)  ab(  ut  me." 

"Well,  then,  he  said  you  were  going  to  be  married." 

"  Not  possible  I  What  an  astounding  re  .elation  !  Did  you 
think  I  was  going  to  be  an  old  maid?  " 

"  Then  it  is  true  >  Is  it  any  harm  to  ask  who  the  happy 
man  is,  Pet  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  haven't  quite  decided  yet.  I  have  ';ome  four  or 
five  on  trial,  and  I  generally  put  them  through  a  severe  course 
of  martyrdom  every  day.  The  one  who  survives  it  (not  more 
than  0!  .an  possibly  survive  it)  I  shall  probably  make  miser- 
able for  life,  by  bestowing  upon  him  my  hanC — and  heart, 
I  was  going  to  say,  only,  fortunately,  they  forgot  to  give  me 
one  when  I  was  made." 

Erminie  laughed,  and  then  ihe  conversation  b-came  general, 
and  two  hours  imperceptibly  slipped  away.  Ray  having 
wrought  himself  up  to  the  belief  that  Miss  Lnwless  wa:  a 
heartless  flirt,  worthy  of  no  higher  feeling  than  contempt, 
he,  in  order  to  resist  the  dark  witchery  of  her  magnetic  eyes, 
wrapped  himself  up  in  his  very  coldest  mantle  of  pride,  and 
addressed  just  as  little  of  his  conversation  to  her  as  he  possibly 
could,  without  being  positively  rude.  Pet,  as  proud  in  htr 
own  way  as  himself,  noticed  this  at  once  and  her  cheeks 
flushed,  and  her  eyes  flushed,  for  a  moment,  with  anger  and 
pride.  Then  these  signs  of  emotion  passed  away,  and  she 
grew  her  own  cold,  careless  self  again,  talking  away  recklessly, 
and  laughing  contemptuously  at  all  sentiment,  until  Ray  was 
more  then  ever  convinced  that  the  world  had  spoiled  her, 


I 


264 


THR  GYPSY  QUEKX'S  \'0W. 


f  ■ 


and  that  slie  was  as  arrant  a  cocjuctte  as  ever  made  a  fool  of  a 
sensible  man. 

As  ti.ey  arose  to  go,  Ray,  feeling  himself  bound  in  courtesy, 
olTerod  to  esc.rt  her  home,  but  Pet  coldly  and  curtly  declined- 
and  vaulting  mto  her  saddle,  dashed  oif  at  a  break-neck 
pace,  madly  reckless  even  for  her. 

Looking  back  once,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  tall  dark 
form  leaning  against  a  tree  with  folded  anus  and  watching 
her  still.  Did  she,  with  her  light,  sparkling,  thoughtless  nature^ 
realize  the  struggle  going  on  in  that  y<ning  heart,  between 
love  and  pride,  at  that  moment .? 

Of  omrse,  the  arrival  of  Ray  and  Erminie  preclu.)  d  her 
exploring  expedition,"  as  she  called  it,  to  the  .seashore  The 
n'xt  morning,  and  part  of  the  afternoon,were  spent  with 
L.minie ;  but  reaching  home  a  little  befote  sunset,  she  suddenly 
remembered  it  and  started  oJl  on  the  spur  of  the  moment, 
like  a  female  Don  Quixote,  in  search  of  adventures. 

"  It's  too  late  to  begin  a  regular  search."  thought  Pet  as 
she  ran  down  the  bank  le.tding  to  the  shore;  "  so  I'll  just 
have  a  look  round  the  place,  and  come  b.ick  some  oJier  day 
and  have  a  real  good  hunt  for  smugglers."' 

Fifteen  minutes  brought  her  to  the  beach,  and  there  she 
paused  to  look  round.     The  sands  for  a  long    instance  out 
were  bare;  but  the  tide  was  slowly  tramping  inward.     On 
the  other  hand,  a  huge  wall  of  beetling  rocks  an.l  projecting 
crags  met  the  eye;  but  these  walls  of  rock  were  so  smooth 
and  perpendicular,  and  so  dizzily  high,  that  the  boldest  sailor, 
used  to  climbing  all  his  life,  would  have  hesitated  before  at- 
tempting to  clamber  up.     There  were  two  paths  leading  to 
u    '^Tfr^^'^  '"'I'r  Pet  h^d  just  descended,  and    another 
about  half  a  mile  distant.   Between  these  the  massive  wall  of 
rock  chose  to  inuulge  itself  in  a  sudden  impetuous  rush  out 
forming  a  huge  projecting  shoulder,  up  which  a  cat  could 
hardly  have  climbed  safely.     The  tide  always  covered  this  u 
considerable  length  of  time  before  it  could  reach  the  sands 
on  either  side,  so  that  a  person  caught  at  high  tide  on  either 
side  found  himself  cut  off  from  crossing  over  to  the  opposite 
side,  unless  he  had  a  boat,  or  could  swim 

-  Now,"  thought  Pet,  "  I'll  have  to  look  sharp  and  not  let 
T  !  ^•'Jf„^f  ^^  '"e  o"  the  other  side  of  that  bluff,  there,  or  if 
1  do,  i  d  nave  a  walk  01  half  a  mile  along  the  beach  to  the 


i  < 

i 


i\  ,* 


a  fool  of  a 

I  courtesy, 
declined; 
reak-neck 

tall  dark 

watching 

ss  nature. 

between 

ud  d  her 
ore.  Tlie 
)ent  with 
suddenly 
moment, 

t  Pet,  as 
)  I'll  just 
•Jier  day 

here  she 
I  nee  out 
rd.     On 
ejecting 
'  smooth 
St  sailor, 
efore  at- 
ading  to 
another 
i  wall  of 
ush  out, 
t  could 
d  this  a 
iC  sand* 
n  either 
)pposite 

not  let 
re,  or  if 
1  to  the 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK. 


265 


other  road,  and  after  that  over  a  mile  to  get  home,  which 
is  a  promenade  1  am  not  anxious  for.  I  might  swim  across, 
It  IS  true,  but  swiuiming  with  all  one's  clothes  on  is  not  the 
pleasantest  or  safest  thing  in  the  world ;  and  all  the  smug- 
glers this  sideof  Pompey's  Pillar  are  not  worth  the  cold  I 
vyould  catch.  I'll  just  walk  over  and  look  at  the  rocks,  and 
then  come  back  again." 

Following  up  this  intention.  Pet  walked  slowly  along,  scan- 
ning the  high,  dark,  frowning  rocks  with  a  curious  eye.  As 
far  as  she  could  see,  there  was  not  the  slightest  trace  of  an 
openmg  anywhere;  yet  the  people  said  that  some  place 
along  the  shore  the  smugglers  had  a  rendezvous.  Pet's  keen 
eye  detected  every  fissure  large  enough  to  hold  a  mouse, 
but  no  trace  of  secret  cave  or  hidden  cavern  could  be 
seen. 

"I  might  have  known  it  was  all  nonsense,"  said  Pet, 
mentally.  "  The  notion  of  finding  an  underground  cave  full 
of  robbers  and  jewels,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  is  too  much 
like  a  play,  or  a  story  in  the  '  Arabian  Nights,'  to  be  natural. 
However,  as  the  night's  fine,  I'll  just  go  and  look  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bluff." 

By  this  time  she  had  reached  the  high  projecting  bowl- 
ders, and  she  paused  for  a  moment  to  glance  at  the  sea.  It 
was  still  several  yards  distant,  and  Pet  felt  sure  she  could  go 
down  some  distance,  and  return  again  before  the  rising  tide 
would  bar  her  passage. 

The  sun  had  set  and  there  was  no  moon ;  but  the  star- 
light was  bright  and  the  sea-breeze  cool  and  invigorating;  so 
Pet,  in  high  spirits,  walked  on.  Here  and  there  she  could 
catch  the  white  sail  of  some  boat,  skimming  over  the  waves  ; 
but  the  long  beach  was  lonely  and  deserted. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  may  as  well  turn  back  now,"  said  Pet, 
half  aloud.  "  I  am  afraid  my  search  after  smugglers  is 
going  to  be  unsuccessful,  after  all.  I  haven't  caught  any- 
thing this  evening,  that's  certain." 

"  But  something  has  caught  you,  pretty  one,"  said  a 
voice,  close  behind  her,  so  close  and  sudden  that  Pet  jumped 
round  with  a  startled  ejaculation,  and  found  herself  face  to 
face  with  her  sometime  tutor  anH  rlisrarrlpH  ini-p»-  P/-.,,pi 
Garnet, 

His  face  was  flushed,  his  eyes  were  gleaming  with  tri- 


ki^m  'fT 


u  ■ 


fJK 


266  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

umph,  as  he  laid  one  powerful   hand  on  her  shoulder,  and 
held  her  fast. 

In  one  instant  the  whole  danger  of  her  situation  flashed 
upon  Pet.  She  had  made  this  man  her  deadly  enemy ;  he 
had  probably  long  waited  for  an  opportunity  for  revenge — 
here  she  was  completely  in  his  power,  alone  on  the  long, 
dreary,  deserted  beach,  where  her  cries,  if  she  uttered  any, 
could  reach  no  ear.  Above  her  towered  the  high,  precipi- 
tous, beetling  rocks  that  she  could  not  climb ;  on  the  other 
hand,  spread  out  the  boundless  ocean,  more  merciful  than 
him  into  whose  hands  she  had  fallen. 

Like  lightning,  it  all  passed  through  her  mind,  and  for 
one  moment  she  quailed.  But  then  her  brave  heart  rose  ; 
this  was  no  time  for  puerile  fears,  and  she  faced  round,  drew 
up  her  slight  form  to  its  full  height,  and  met  her  enemy  with 
a  dauntless  eye. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Garnet,"  she  said,  composedly. 
"  This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure.  We  thought  you  had 
gone  away." 

"  Ah  1  did  you  ?  Gone  where,  Miss  Lawless  ?  "  he  said, 
with  a  sinister  smile. 

"  Well— any  where— to  the  county  jail,  as  likely  as  not ; 
but  people  don't  always  get  their  deserts  in  this  world." 

"  Very  true,  Miss  Pet ;  but  you  are,  at  present,  in  a  fair 
way  to  get  yours." 

"  Humph  1  You'll  allow  me  to  differ  from  you,  there.  I 
deserve  something  better  than  bad  company,  I  hope ;  so 
permit  me  to  wish  you  a  very  good-evening,  Mr.  Garnet." 

"  Not  so  fast.  Miss  Lawless ;  you  must  do  your  humble 
servant  the  iionor  of  conferring  your  company  upon  him  for 
a  few  days.  As  I  have  not  seen  you  for  so  long  a  time,  it 
would  be  highly  impolite,  not  to  say  cru  j1,  to  hasten  away  so 
soon  now." 

"  Indeed  1  Mr.  Garnet— indeed !  "  said  Pet,  arching  her 
brows.  "  Your  lesson  in  the  library  did  not  ca/e  you,  I  see. 
Are  you  aware  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  jail  i  1  Judcstown] 
where  refractory  gentlemen  who  threaten  peace  ible  citizens 
are  sometimes  taken  for  a  change  of  air  ?  Reaily,  Mr.  Gar- 
net, I  think  a  little  ♦holesome  correction  would  not  hurt  you 
in  the  least." 

"  No,  Miss  Lawless,  I  have  not  forgotten  that  scene  in  the 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 


267 


ulder,  and 

)n  flashed 
jnemy;  he 
revenge — 
the  long, 
tered  any, 
h,  precipi- 
the  other 
ciful  than 

d,  and  for 
Jart  rose  ; 
und,  drew 
lemy  with 

nposedly. 
you    had 

he  said, 

^  as  not; 

>rld." 

,  in  a  fair 

there.  I 
hope;  so 
Garnet." 
r  humble 
1  him  for 
a  time,  it 
I  away  so 

hing  her 
3u,  I  see. 
idcstown, 
!  citizens 
Mr.  Gar- 
hurt  you 

ae  in  the 


library  of  your  father's  house,"  said  Garnet,  tightening  his 
grasp,  till  Pet  winced  with  pain.  "  My  hand  bears  the  mark 
of  your  sharp  teeth  yet ;  and  as  I  am  deeply  your  debtor  for 
that  Judas-kiss,  I  shall  pay  you  in  your  own  coin  before 
either  of  us  are  many  hours  older.  Did  you  think  how  near 
retribution  was  when  you  gave  me  that  sharp  caress,  Miss 
Lawless  ? " 

"  '  Sharp  caress.'  I  suppose  that  means  a  bite.  If  you're 
not  anxious  to  test  their  sharpness  again,  Mr.  Garnet,  you'll 
let  go  my  arm.  Faith  1  I  wish  I  had  made  one  of  my  ser- 
vants horsewhip  you  from  my  gates,  that  day ;  you  would 
not  have  dared  to  come  sneaking  round  like  a  white-livered 
coward,  that  you  are — now  !  " 

"  Petronilla  Lawless,  take  care  1"  he  hissed,  with  a  fierce 
gleam  of  his  eye. 

"  Take  care  of  what?  I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  Rozzel  Gar- 
net," flashed  Pet.  "  Anything  in  the  shape  of  a  man  who 
would  go  round  playing  the  spy  on  an  unprotected  girl,  has 
sunk  rather  low  to  be  feared  by  me.  Take  care,  you  1  I  vow 
it  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  cowhide  in  the  countiy,  I  shall 
have  you  thrashed  for  this,  within  an  inch  of  your  cowardly 
life." 

"  And  get  your  attached  friend,  the  gipsy  beggar,  to  ad- 
minister it — eh.  Miss  Lawless  ? "  he  said,  with  the  smile  of 
a  fiend.  "  What  a  pity  he  is  not  here,  like  a  true  knight- 
errant,  to  rescue  his  lady-love  I  " 

*'  It's  well  for  you  he's  not,  or  he  wouldn't  leave  a  whole 
bone  in  your  miserable  skin.  Let  me  go,  I  tell  yoi'  1  Your 
presence    is    pollution,"  said  Pet,  struggling   to  get    free. 

He  held  her  with  a  grasp  of  iron,  and  watched  her  inef- 
fectual efforts  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  I  told  you  when  we  would  meet  again  you  would  plead 
to  m.e,"  he  said,  with  an  evil  gleam  of  his  snake-Uke  eyes. 
"  That  time  has  come." 

"Has  it,  indeed?"  said  Pet.  "Well,  if  you  have  heard 
or  are  likely  to  hear  me  pleading  to  anybody  under  heaven,  I 
must  say  you  have  a  wonderful  pair  of  ears.  I  have  read  of 
a  gentleman  called  Fine-ear,  who  could  hear  the  grains  grow- 
in"'  ;  but.  u"Qn  my  word,  he  couldn't  hold  a  candle  to  vou !  " 

"  The  time  will  come,  girl,  when  you  will  grovel  and  plead 
at  my  very  feet,  only  to  be  spurned  1  " 


tiJIMf"""?r 


"lOi.r 


•-»•  LurM 


268 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


ll 


1i^ 


_  "  Now,  Mr.  Garnet,  look  here,"  said  Pet ;  «  you're  plaffiar- 
izing  a  story  out  of  *  The  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments.' 
You  needn  t  think  to  palm  it  off  on  me  as  original,  for  I've 
read  it,  as  well  as  you,  and  know  all  about  the  glass  mer- 
chant, who  fancied  he  would  marry  the  vizier's  daughter 
and  have  her  kneeling  at  his  feet,  just  as  I  am  to  do  at  your 
royal  highness's,  you  know ;  and  then  he  would  very  ungal- 
lant  y  give  her  a  kick,  and  in  so  doing  smashed  his  basket 
of  glass  all  to  pieces.  You  needn't  think  to  take  me  in  you 
see ;  for  my  education  has  not  been  neglected  more  than 
your  own." 

/'Cease  this  fooling,"  said  Garnet,  angrily,  "and  come 
with  me.  Resistance  is  useless.  You  are  completely  in  my 
power,  and  may  as  well  come  quietly." 

"I  won't  then  I  Not  a  step  will  I  budge,  if  I  die  for  it!  " 
said  Pet,  planting  her  feet  fairly  in  the  yielding  sand.  "  I  am 
not  in  the  habit  of  walking  out  with  gentlemen  at  this  hour 
of  the  evening,  I  would  have  you  to  know. 

'  Come  one,  come  all,  this  rock  shall  fly 
From  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I.'  " 

And  Pet,  with  an  undaunted  look,  that  would  have  made 
her  fortune  as  a  virtuous  heroine  in  difficulties  on  the  sta^e 
looked  unflinchingly  in  his  face,  though  her  stout  heart  was 
throbbing  as  she  each  moment  more  and  more  clearlv  saw 
her  danger.  -^ 

''Then  I  shall  make  you,  by— 1  "  And  he  swore  a  fearful 
oath,  while  a  terrible  frown  settled  on  his  face.  "  Since  you 
will  not  walk,  I  shall  bind  you  hand  and  foot  and  have  you 
carried.  Scream  as  loud  as  you  like,"  he  added,  grimly  • 
"  there  is  no  one  far  or  near  to  hear  you." 

Holding  her  still  with  one  hand,  he  began  fumbling  in  his 
pockets,  probably  in  search  of  something  to  bind  her  hands 
and  feet.  Pet  cast  a  quick,  sweeping  glance  around.  Along 
the  beach  not  a  living  soul  was  to  be  seen,  and  even  the 
boats  were  now  out  of  sight.  They  were  close  to  the  bowld  :r, 
around  which  the  waves  were  now  seething  and  dashing ;  and 
the  tide  was  rapidly  advancing  to  where  they  stood.  Pet 
had  her  back  to  the  bowlder,  while  he  stood  facing  it,  thus 
wedging  her  into  a  narrow  prison,  with  the  high,  steep  rocks 


¥ 


rwSiiHiA'mmsi^mm 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK. 


269 


on  one  side,  and  the  dashing  sea  on  the  other,  and  prevent- 
ing all  hope  of  escaping  by  running  along  the  beach. 

His  eye  followed  hers,  and  he  said,  with  a  triunriphant 
chuckle  : 

"  Caged,  my  bird  of  paradise  1  Snared,  my  mountain 
eaglet  I  Trapped,  my  forest  fairy  I  Won,  my  dauntless  lady- 
love 1  Ha !  ha  1  hal  Your  ever-triumphant  star  has  set,  at 
last,  my  beautiful,  black-eyed  bride." 

Standing  between  her  and  all  hope  of  escape,  he  ventured 
to  lelax  his  grasp  for  a  moment,  to  aid  in  the  search  for 
something  to  bind  her  with.  In  one  second,  like  a  bolt  from 
a  bird,  she  darted  forward,  and  with  one  wild,  flying  leap, 
impossible  to  anything  but  desperation,  she  sprung  sheer 
into  the  foaming  waters  and  vanished  I 

Vanished  but  for  an  instant.  Pet  could  swim  like  a  fish, 
or  a  cork,  or  a  mermaid,  or  anything  else  you  please,  while 
Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet  had  as  intense  an  aversion  to  cold  water 
as  0  sufferer  from  hydrophobia.  As  quickly  as  she  had  dis- 
appeared did  her  black  curls  glitter  above  the  white  foam 
again,  as  she  dauntlessly  struck  out  for  the  shore. 

She  had  not  far  to  swim,  and  she  buffeted  the  waves  like 
a  sea-goddess  ;  so,  while  Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet  stood  stunned, 
speechless,  paralyzed,  she  had  gained  the  shore,  fled  as  fast 
as  her  dripping  clothes  would  permit  her  along  the  beach, 
rushed  up  the  path,  then  back  again  on  the  rocks  up  above, 
until  she  stood  directly  over  the  spot  where  the  foiled  villain 
still  remained,  as  if  rooted  to  the  ground,  unable  to  compre- 
hend which  end  he  was  standing  on,  to  use  a  strong  figure 
of  speech. 

"  Hallo,  Mr.  Garnet  1  how  do  you  find  yourself  ?  "  shouted 
Pet,  from  above.  "  Oh  my  1  how  beautifully  you  did  it  I 
My  stars  !  you  ought  to  have  a  leather  medal  presented  to 
you  for  catching  girls — you  do  it  so  cleverly." 

He  turned  and  looked  up ;  and  there,  in  the  dusk,  bright 
starlight,  he  saw  Pet  all  dripping  like  a  Naiad,  and  her 
black  eyes  almost  out-flashing  the  stars  themselves. 

"  Curses  light  on  her!  "  he  hissed  between  his  teeth. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr  Gan.et !  Curses,  like  chickens,  come 
home  to  roost,  you  know.  Ah,  you  did  it — didn't  you.'"' 
said  Pet,  provokingiy.  "  Don't  you  wish  you  had  me, 
though  ?     It's  slippery   work  holding  eels,  and  dangerous 


:irT 


"^»»_»*k_^^ 


270 


THK  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


to  play  with  exploding  bombshells,  and  stinging  occupation 
pulling  nettles;  but  the  coat-sleeves  that  try  to  hold  me  wm 
find  a  harder  and  more  dangerous  job  than  any  of  them 

remeniber,  when  you  next  try  to  captivate  me,  that  earth,  air, 
hre,  and  water  were  never  made  to  hold  me." 

"  Ah  I  you  may  triumph  now— it  is  your  turn,"  he  said 
ooking  up,  hvid  with  rage;  -but  mine  will  come  yet  1  my 
time  will  come  I "  ^  ^ 

"  Well,  it's  consoling  to  hear.     I  hope  you'll  have  a  good 
dTrt'ed  off!  ''  '°"''-"     "^"^  ^^'^  "  '"""'^"S  laugh.  Pet 

at  hind  '^'^  ^'^^^'  ""^  '^^"^  ^""^^"^  ^^"^  ""^^'^^y  ^^^^  *™^  ^^s 


l< 


If-Tl 


U   ■  t 


I  -r 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  LOVER. 

"  And  yet  this  tough,  impracticable  heart 
Is  governed  by  a  dainty-fingered  girl."~RowB. 

'' ^,^ere  is  a  pleasure  in  being  mad, 
Which  none  but  madmen  know, "— Dryden. 

c.  Jy^^^.  ^AWLESS  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  of  his 
study  with  rapid,  excited  strides,  his  brows  knit,  his  face 

attftut''j'H\'"''^^'"^'^''^^^*^^^^  -^'^-  -i-lelook! 
minf  WK  ^.^^""g^'/Pe^king  Of  deepest,  intensest  excite- 
ment  When  in  profound  or  troubled  thought,  he  had  a 
habit  (many  have)  of  talking  to  himself  unconfciiusly  ;  and 
now  he  muttered,  between  his  teeth :  J'  '      " 

"I  am  going  mad-I  am  mad-bewitched-bewildered  1 
10  think  that  I,  at  my  years,  should  fall  in  love  like  a  boy 
o  eighteen  I  who  fancied  I  had  outlived  all  such  rubbish. 
But  oh  that  girl  I  that  glorious  girl  I  that  angel  of  beauty  I 
that  transcendently  radiant  creature  I  that  lovely,  bewilder- 
ing enchanting,  intoxicating  Erminier  Good  heavens!  how 
Uie  very  thought  of  her  sets  my  head  whirling  !  that  electric 
Erminie  1  with  her  anap I-cmile  o^^r}  ,v..„j:„4^„j  (.  _  .  ,,., 
could  help  loving  her?  Not  I,  certainly,  and  yet  it   is  only 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  IvOVER. 


271 


I 
1 


one  short  week  since  her  return  home.  Oh,  that  I  could 
win  her  to  love  me  1  Oh,  to  possess  that  love-angel !  Oh, 
Erminie !  Erminie  I  "  And  breathing  out  his  very  soul  in  the 
syllables  of  her  name,  he  sunk  into  a  chair,  and  leaned  his 
throbbing  head  on  his  hand. 

Judge  Lawless  had  all  his  life  computed  himself  as  a 
grave,  self-possessed,  dignified  gentleman  ;  excessively  proud, 
excessively  unbending,  and  so  calm  and  unimpassioned  that 
it  seemed  a  matter  of  doubt  whether  he  was  made  of  com- 
mon flesh  and  blood  or  cast-iron.  But  now,  at  the  mature 
age  of  five-and-forty,  all  his  pride  and  dignity  blew  away, 
like  a  whiff  of  down  on  a  blast,  at  the  first  glimpse  of  Er- 
minie Germaine's  fair,  sunshiny,  blooming  young  face  ;  and 
here  he  was,  now,  making  a  dov  jright  fool  of  himself — as 
many  another  old  gentlemen  has  done,  is  doing,  and  will 
continue  to  do,  while  the  world  goes  round.  Forgetting 
that  he  was  nearly  treble  her  age,  forgetting  his  high  position 
in  the  world  and  her  lowly  one,  forgetting  he  was  far  more 
likely  to  be  some  day  her  father-in-law  than  her  husband 
forgetting  everything,  in  a  word,  but  that  her  beauty  had 
turned  his  brain,  Judge  Lawless  sat  down  to  reflect  on  the 
best  course  to  pursue  in  the  present  somewhat  unsatisfactory 
state  of  affairs. 

Judge  Lawless  was,  as  I  told  you,  a  grave,  calm-pulsed 
gentleman,  who  considered  himself  as  good,  not  to  say  con- 
siderably better,  than  any  other  man  in  the  world,  and  held 
in  the  profoundest  contempt  the  little  corner  of  the  world  in 
which  he  lived,  and  its  quiet,  hum-drum  inhabitants.  There- 
fore, he  heard  Pet  boisterously  relating  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
and  Miss  Germaine  with  the  greatest  indifference,  and  with- 
out the  remotest  ide;-  of  ever  giving  either  of  them  another 
thought  beyond  a  cool  caution  to  Pet  not  to  associate  too 
freely  with  people  of  "  that  set  "  ;  but  when,  the  next  morn- 
ing, riding  past  the  Old  Barrens  Cottage  on  his  way  to  Judes- 
town,  a  vision  m<:  his  eyes  of  such  dazzling  beauty  that  in- 
voluntarily he  stood  stock-still  to  gaze,  Judge  Lawless  found 
that  the  only  one  in  the  world  worth  thinking  of  was  one  of 
"  that  set."  There  stood  Erminie  at  the  gate,  in  her  trim, 
spotless  muslin  morning-dress,  with  her  snowy  linen  collar 

ful  form  they  draped.     The  morning  sunshine  flashed  in  her 


:s^ 


1^' 


II  i'-' 


272  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

rhi"i"^V^!,T'",^'  l!''''^'  '""^^  ^'''''  S^^^^  the  roses  on  her 

tfu'  rV      "^.^  ^''J^'f'  ^'^^'  '"  '^"^  ^^'S^'  «oft,  violet  eyes, 
and  lay  hke  a  friend's  kiss  on  the  full   and  rounded  hps. 

Judge  Lawless  was  spellbound,  enchanted,  bewildered,  be- 
deviled, to  use  his  own  phrase.  In  all  his  life  he  had  never 
seen  so  dazzling  a  beauty-in  all  his  life  he  had  never  ex- 
pected to  see  anyone  half  so  lovely  again  ;  and  there  he  stood 
gazmg  upon  her  like  a  man  in  a  dream,  quite  unconscious 
hat  the  young  lady,  whoever  she  was,  might  think  this  pro- 

did  not  think  It  very  strange  at  all.  She  recognized  him,  of 
course;  and  thinking  he  was  merely  trying  to  identify  her  ^he 

smile'' ?h"h''  ^'1'  ""'  ^^"^  °"'  ''  ^-  -ith  a  blLh  and  J 
sm  le,  and,  being  always  a  little  awed  and  afraid  of  his 
stately  grandeur  held  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a  g  rlish 
timidity  quite  charming.  g'^ii^n 

-  I  suppose  you  have  forgotten  me,  sir,"  she  said,  lifting 
GermaTn e/ '         "'"'''  ''''  '"  ""''  ''''■     "  '  ^^  ^rminif 

"  Little  Erminie  >  Why,  how  pret— a— I  mean,  how  well 
you  are  lookingl ''  he  said,  taking  the  hand  she  offered,  Ind 
^  wi?f      ^r""^  ^""T",  ''""^  '^^"   ^^^  strictly  necessa^ 

uZ^u^^u^  '^''  '^^"^'  ^^y  d°"'t  y°"  come  over  ?o 
Heath  Hill  some  time,  Miss  Germaine  > '' 

^M^'hl^^""^  promised  Miss  Lawless  to  go  and  spend  the  day 
with  her  soon,"  said  Erminie.  embarrassed  by  his  too-ardeu 
gaze,  and  striving  to  withdraw  her  hand.     <'  I  hope  she  is 

''  Who  ?  Eh  ?  Oh,  yes  I  she's  well.     Come  over  to-morrow 
Miss  Germaine.     I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  you."  ' 

FrmJn!!f^^°"'  ''' '  ^  '^^"  ^^  "^^^^  happy  to  do  SO,"  replied 
Ermin.e,  growing  more  and  more  embarrassed  by  his  open 
admiring  gazes,  and  again  trying  to  withdraw  her  hand.        ' 

flake  fl.^  ^     f '  "^"''^^  ""consciously,  held   the  little  snow- 
flake  fast    and  seemed  inclined  to  commit  petty  larceny  bv 

bfusSlce^^'jH";  -^^'^.^-g-^ed  and  gazed  fn  the  sw'ee  , 
blushing  face  with  its   waving  hair  and  drooping  eyes,  and 

iwllT"^^  '"'  '""'^  desperately  in  love  eve^ry  L^ent 
last    cnnfJTu'^T  '"'  -^"^^^  Lawless.^"  said  Erminie,  at 
last,  confused  by  her  situation,  fearing  to  offend  him,  y^t 
wisnmg  ro  get  away.  '  ^" 


l> 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  LOVER. 


273 


**  Come  in  ?  Oh,  yes— to  be  sure  1  "  exclaimed  the  judge, 
with  alacrity.  "  I  was  just  thinking — a — of  going  in  to  see 
your  grandmother.     I  hope  she  is  quite  well." 

And  the  judge,  who  had  never  entered  the  cottage  before, 
nor  dreamed  in  the  most  remote  way  of  ever  doing  so,  ac- 
tually got  off 'his  horse,  tied  him  to  a  stake,  and  followed  the 
surprised  Erminie  into  the  house.  And  then,  forgetting 
Ketura,  and  his  business  in  Judestown,  and  all  other  sublun- 
ary things,  in  the  presence  of  this  enchanting  maiden,  there 
he  remained  for  three  mortal  hours,  until  the  unlooked-for 
entrance  of  Ray,  who  had  been  over  the  moor  gunning,  and 
now  returned  with  a  well-filled  game-bag,  looking  happy, 
handsome,  and  with  a  powerful  appetite.  As  his  eye  fell 
upon  their  strange  guest,  he  started,  colored  slightly  and 
then  bowed  with  cold  hauteur.  Judge  Lawless  returned  it 
with  one  no  less  stiff  ;  for  though  in  love  with  the  sister,  it 
by  no  means  followed  he  was  very  passionately  enamored 
of  the  brother.  And  then  discovering,  to  his  horror,  that 
the  whole  morning  was  gone,  he  rode  off,  followed  by  the 
haunting  vision  of  a  sweet  young  face,  with  waving,  floating 
hair,  and  dark,  lustrous,  violet  eyes. 

And  from  that  hour  may  be  dated  the  "  decline  and  fall  " 
of  Judge  Lawless. 

His  business  was  given  up  for  visits  to  the  cottage  ;  his 
family  concerns  were  neglected  for  day-dreams  that,  however 
excusable  in  youths  with  faintly-sprouting  mustaches,  were 
quite  absurd  in  a  dark,  dignified,  "  potent,  grave,  and  rever- 
fend  seigneur  "  like  Judge  Adolphus  Lawless.  But  when 
love  comes  in  at  the  door,  sense  flies  out  at  the  window,  to 
change  the  adage  a  little,  and  especially  where  gentlemen 
■>n  the  disagreeable  side  of  forty  are  concerned.  So  Judge 
7  ;i  ivless  was  deaf,  blind  and  dumb  to  that  awful  bugbear, 
"  They  say,"  and  might  have  been  seen  at  the  cottage  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  ni<^ht,  to  the  utter  amazement  and  complete 
astonishment  of  ail  who  knew  him,  and  to  none  more  so  than 
to  his  blue-ey  -a  nflamn'ation  of  the  heart  herself.  Erminie 
was  at  aioss — v  noletely  at  a  loss,  and  so  was  Ray.  Nei- 
ther of  them  drtu  ied — no  one  dreamed — that  the  pompous, 
haughty  Prince  Grandison  of  a  Judge  Lawless  could  have 

nuch  less  with  the  little,  obscure 


luiicii  III  luvc  Ul  ail. 


euiiA^iC  - 


girl,  Erminie  Germaine — tainted,  as  she  was,  by  that  great 


.V 

it 


it 


f.!: 


274  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

est  of  all  crimes,  poverty.  Obscure,  I  said  ;  let  me  retract 
hat  word  Erm.nie  Germaine-beautiful  Erminie-was 
known  and  celebrated  far  beyond  Old  Barrens  Cottage  for 
nllTTl;  T"^  g°°dness,  and  gentleness,  and  all  the  other 
qual  ties  that  make  some  women  a  little  lower  than  the 
angels.  But  no  one  thought  that  on  a  heart  of  flint  like  his 
-or  rather,  no  heart  at  all— the  Venus  de  Medicis  herself 
should  she  step  out  alive  from  her  pedestal,  could  make  the 

every  b,t  as  good-lookmg  as    that  scantily-draped  ladv  of 

Hen  for  T^'^  ''"''u  ^'^""^^  '^'^  ^'^^  g^°^'"  to  be  anothe 
He  en  for  whom  another  Troy  might  have  been  lost,  no  on. 
set  h,s  v.s:ts  to  the  cottage  down  to  her,  but  rather  ti  eccen- 
ncity,  to  some  scheme,  to  some  inexplicable  notion,  to  any- 
thmg  at  all  but  to  the  real  cause.  ^ 

And   so   Judge  Lawless   was   in  love,  and    unsuspected 

;^."nd  t'hinkin"'  T'  !r  ''^  ''^''''y'  ^^^'^  ^'^  headTn  hfs 
hand  thinkmg  and  pondenng,  and  revolving,  and  wondering 

as"tnn  'h-''"V'"'i''^°^  "^""S-^  "^^"^^  ^«  ^  Crisis,  Tnd 
astonishmg  his  friends,  his  intention  was  to  raise  Miss 
Germame  to  the  dignity  of  his  wife.     Judge  Lawless  was 

ZT^r'^l':  '"'  '°"  '°  propose  Jthat^as  the  r)Tn" 
horn  of  the  dilemma.  Judge  Lawless  was  not  accustomed 
o  proposing;  he  had  not  attempted  it  for  the  last  iiveTnd- 
twenty  years,  and  then  the  lady  had  saved  him  the  trouble. 
Mrs.  Lawless  had  been  a  wild  young  heiress,  who  fel 
violently  in  love  with  the  "  sweet ''curling  '  hair  and 
"divine"  whiskers  of  the  handsome  young  lawyer  and 
not  being  troubled  with  that  disagreeable  dlease  rnddent 
to  most  very  young  ladies,  yclept  bashfulness,  had,  Hke  a 
gm  of  honor  come  to  the  point  at  once,  and,  in  a  very  com- 

and  fortune.     The  ambitious  young  lawyer,   nothing  loth 
took  her  at  her  word,  and,  one  fine  moonlight  night,  a  fourt  .' 
story  window  was  opened,  a  rope-ladder  put  in  requisUion  • 
hen  .  carnage ;  then  a  parson  ;  then  a  ring,  and  •' Adolphus' 
Lawless,  barrister  at  law,"  as  his  shingle  then  announced  him 
was  wooed  and  won.  ' 

whl^J!  ^u'"  rf  .''"i!^  ^""^h^'  ^^'""S-     He  was  in  love  now. 
which   he    hadn't    been   the  first  time :  and  Inv.  n^.w  .C 

boldest  warrior  that  ever  clove  helmets  and  heads  "in  "battle 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  LOVER. 


me  retract 
linie — was 
-ottage  for 

the  other 

than  the 
nt  like  his 
is  herself, 

make  the 
minie  was 
d  lady  of 
2  another 
St,  no  one 

to  eccen- 
n,  to  any- 

uspected. 
id  in  his 
Dndering, 
isis,    and 
ise  Miss 
less  was 
le  trying 
:ustomed 
five-and- 
trouble. 
ivho    fell 
air    and 
'er,    and 
incident 
I,  like  a 
;ry  corn- 
ier hand 
ng  loth, 
1  fourth- 
jisition  ; 
dolphus 
:ed  him, 

ve  now. 

-*-' — •    •■.2«C 

1  battle 


275 


as  timid  as  a — I  was  going  to  say  girl ;  but  I  won't,  for  in  such 
a  case,  they  are  not  timid  at  all — but  as  a  newly-fledged 
gosling.  Not  that  he  feared  a  refusal.  Judge  Lawless  drew 
himself  up  until  his  pantaloon-straps  cracked,  and  looked 
indignantly  in  the  glass  at  himself  for  entertaining  such  an 
idea  an  instant.  But  he  didn't  know  the  formula — that  was 
it.  Things  had  changed  so  since  he  was  a  garcon,  and  the 
manner  of  popping  the  question  might  have  changed  with 
the  rest.  It  would  never  do  to  make  himself  ridiculous  ; 
thougi;  vS  the  thought  crossed  his  mind,  he  drew  himself  up 
again  to  the  full  extent  of  his  six  feet,  odd  inches,  and  felt 
indignant  at  the  notion  of  his  being  ridiculous  under  any 
circumstances  whatever. 

"  Have  her  I  must,  come  what  will  1"  he  said,  getting  up 
again,  and  resuming  his  2:40  pace  up  and  down  the  floor. 
"  I  am  mad  about  that  girl,  I  believe.  The  world  may  laugh 
and  sneer  at  the  idea  of  my  marrying  a — well,  a  pauper,  in 
point  of  fact,  when  I  could  win,  if  I  chose,  the  highest  in 
the  land.  Well,  let  them.  If  Judge  Lawless  cannot  do  as 
he  pleases,  I  should  like  to  know  who  can.  I  have  wealth 
enough  to  do  us  both ;  the  old  admiral  will  leave  his  estate 
and  bank-stock  to  Ranty  and  Pet,  and,  h'm-m-m,  ah  1 — Yes, 
have  her  I  must — that's  settled.  And  this  very  afternoon 
shall  I  ride  over,  and  let  her  know  the  honor  in  store  for 
her  I  " 

And  that  very  afternoon,  true  to  his  promise,  Judge 
Lawless,  arrayed  in  a  somber,  dignified  suit  of  black,  with 
his  hair  and  whiskers  oiled  and  scented  to  that  extent  that 
his  fast  mare.  Wildfire,  lifted  up  her  head  and  looked  at  him 
in  grave  astonishment,  and  inwardly  resolved  to  keep  a  wary 
eye  on  her  master  for  the  future,  lest  he  should  take  to 
dandyism  in  his  old  age,  made  his  way  to  Old  Barrens 
Cottage. 

Arriving  at  the  cottage,  he  fastened  his  mare,  and  rapped 
at  the  cottage-door  with  his  riding-whip,  in  a  grand  and 
important  sort  of  way  befitting  the  occasion.  Erminie  her- 
self opened  it ;  and,  at  sight  of  her  beautiful,  rounded  form, 
the  taper  waist,  the  swelling  bust,  the  white,  rounded  throat, 
on  which  the  graceful  little  head  was  poised  with  the 
queenly  air  of  a  royal  princess  ;  the  waving,  sunshiny  hair, 
the  smiling  lips,  the  soft  tender,  violet  eyes,  Judge  Lawless 


ff 


t 


1!. 


I 


376 


TixE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW 


was  twice,  and  thrice,  as  deeply,  and  irretrievably       d  des- 
perately  m  love  as  ever. 

He  came  in.     Erminie  was  alone.     How  he  thanked  the 
gods  for  that!  took  a  seat,  stood  his  cane  in  the  corner,  'aid 
his  hat  on  the  table,  drew  out  a  t,nowy  cambric  handkerchief 
redolent  of  musk,  eau  de  cologne,  ottar  of  roses,  and  bergamot' 
trom  one  of  those  intensely  mysterious  pockets  gentlemen ' 
for  some  inscrutable  reason,  wear  in  their  coat-tails,  blew  his 
nose,  replaced  his  handkerchief,  laia  a  Imnd  on  each  knee 
ooked  at   Erminie,  and  prepared  her  for  what  was  coming 
by  a  loud  "  ahem  I  "  ^ 

Erminie,  whose  rosy  fingers  were  flying,  as  if  by  stress,  on 
some  article  of  dress,  did  not  look  up-  so  all  these  significant 
preparations,  proper  to  be  done,  and  which  are  always  done 
I   believe,  whenever  elderly  men  go  to  propose,  were  quite 
thrown  away  upon  her.  »-    f      >  4"  "-c 

"Ahem  I"  repeated  the  judge,  with  s. -ne   severity,    and 
yet  looking  with  longing  eyes  at  the  graceful  form  and  sweet 
drooping  face  before  him,  "  Miss  Erminie  1" 
She  looked  up  inquiringly,  with  a  smile. 
<'  Ahem  r    The   stately   judge   was   rather  embarrassed. 

Perhaps,  Miss  Germai-.e,  you  are  not  in  uti.r  ignorance 
ot— ahem— of  the  object  of  my  visits  here.  I  have  revol-  d 
the  matter  over  in  ail  ics  bearings,  and  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that— ahem  I-that  I  am  at  perfect  liberty  to  please 
mysel  in  this  matter.  The  world  may  wonder— no  doubt  it 
will;  but  I  trust  I  have  wisdom  enough  to  direct  m  own 
actions  ;  and  though  it  may  stare,  it  cannot  but  admir«  the 
person  I — ahem  1— I  have  ohosen  1  "••#" 

The  judge  made  a  dead  halt,  drew  out  his  handkerchief 
a;ivv'n,  until  the  air  would  have  remainded  you  of  "Ceylon's 
STyM,y  breezes,"  and  shifted  his  left  leg  over  his  right,  and 
C'lcn  his  right  one  over  his  left.  Erminie,  not  understanding 
one  word  of  this  valedictory,  had  dropped  her  work,  and  sat 
looking  at  him,  with  wide-open  eyes. 

•'  In  short,  therefore.  Miss  Germaine,  we  will,  if  you  please 
consider  the  matter  settled  ;  and  you  will  greatly  oblige  me 
by  naming  the  earliest  possible  day  for  the  ceremony  " 

"  The  ceremony  !   What  ceremony,  sir  ?  "  said  the  puzzled 
.      ' — "■•••&  p'--vii^i  tiian  cvci  ill  iicr  perplexity. 

•'  Why,  our  marriage,  to  be  surel" 


I 


\.!k 


'aid 


I 


AN  UNl^OOKED-FOR  LOVER. 


a77 


"O  ir  n.  rriage?" 

"  Certainly,  my  love.  The  earlier  the  day,  the  sooner  my 
happiness  will  be  complete  I" 

And  the  judge  raised  her  h.i  1  to  his  lips,  with  the  stately 
formality  of  five-and-twenty  yea  'before,  fearing  to  venture 
.ny   further;  for   there  was  a 'o  the  sweet,  wot  dering 

eyes  th.     nade  him  rather  uncu 

"  Judge  Lii  vless,  excuse  me.  I  do  not  know  what  y>.  u 
jnean.  I  '"ear  I  have  misunderstooc'  you,"  sair  Erminie, 
more  perplexed  than  she  ever  was  before  in  the  \Miole 
course  of  her  life. 

'  Misunderstood  nie  ?  Impossible,  Miss  Germaine  I  I 
have  used  the  plainest  possible  langu._,c,  I  think,  in  asking 
you  to  be  my  wife  1  ' 

"Your  wife?" 

"  Yes,  my  wife  1  Why  this  surprise,  dear  girl  ?  Why, 
Erminie  I  Good  heaven-  ^rmiaiel  is  it  possible  you  really 
have  not  understood  me  i  time  ?     Why,  dearest,  fairest 

girl,  I  love  you — I  wish  )  be  my  wife  1     Do  you  under- 

stand now  ?  " 

He  would  have  passed  his  arm  around  her  waist ;  but, 
crimson  with  burning  blushes,  she  sprung  to  her  feet,  a  vivid 
light  in  her  beautiful  eyes,  and  raised  her  hand  to  wave  him 
off. 

"  You  are  mocking  me,  Judge  Lawless  I  If  you  have  had 
your  amusement,  we  will  drop  the  subject." 

"  Mocking  }'ou,  my  beautiful  Erminie  I  I  swear  to  you  I 
love  you  with  all  my  heart  aiul  soul !  Only  make  me  happy, 
by  saying  you  will  be  my  wife  1  " 

The  conviction  that  he  was  really  serious,  now  for  the 
first  time  dawned  upon  Erminies  mind.  The  rosy  tide 
flooded  neck  and  brow  again,  and  she  dropped  her  flushed 
face  in  her  hands,  as  she  remembered  he  was  Ranty's 
father. 

"  I  am  not  surprised  that  you  should  wonder  at  my 
choice,"  said  the  judge,  complacently.  "Of  course  the 
world  expects  I  should  marry  a  woman  of  rank ;  but  I  like 
you,  and  am  determined  to  please  myself,  let  them  wonder 
as  thev  will !  " 

Erminie'shanf'  dropped  from  her  face,  crimson  now,  but 
not  with  embarassment ;  her  eyes  flashed  with  the    fiery 


I 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


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m  IIIH 

2.5 
2.2 

It   IIIIIM        2.0 

1.8 

1.4 

1.6 

^     APPLIED  IM^GE 


Inc 


1 65 J   East   Main   Street 

Rochester.    New    Vork  14609        USA 

(716)   482  -  0300  -  Ptione 

(716)    ?88  -  5989  -  Fax 


iSESRorirTcii" 


278 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


spirit  of  the  old  De  Courcys,  as  she  drew  herself  up  to  her  full 
night,  and  calmly  said  : 

"I  will  spare  you  the  humiliation,  and  your  friends  the 
trouble  of  wondering  at  your  choice.  For  the  honor  you  have 
done  me,  I  thank  you,  even  while  I  must  decline  it  " 

"  Decline  it !  "    The  judge  sat  aghast. 

Erminie  compressed  her  lips,  and  silently  bowed.  She 
stood  there  like  a  young  queen,  her  proud  little  head  erect, 
her  fair  cheeks  scarlet,  her  eyes  darkening  and  darkening, 
until  they  seemed  almost  black. 

"  Decline  it !  "  The  judge,  in  his  amazement,  was  a  sight 
to  see.  * 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Miss  Germaine,  I— I'm  thunderstruck!  I—I'm  con- 
founded  1  I— I  am  utterly  confounded  1  Miss  Germaine,  you 
do  not  mean  it ;  you  cannot  mean  it  1  it's  impossible  you 
can  mean  it  I  Refuse  me  1  Oh,  it  is  utterly  impossible  you 
can  mean  it ! "  j       r  j  ^ 

"On  the  contrary,  wonderful  as  it  seems,  I  must  dis- 
tinctly and  unequivocally  decline  the  honor."  And  Erminie's 
look  of  calm  determination  showed  her  resolution  was  not  to 
be  shaken.  Judge  Lawless  rose  to  his  feet  and  confronted 
her.  Indignation,  humiliation,  anger,  wounded  pride,  mor- 
tification jealousy,  and  a  dozen  other  disagreeable  feelings, 
flushing  his  face  until  its  reflection  fairly  imparted  a  rosy 
hue  to  his  snow-white  shirt  bosom.  -'        ^  Jf 

"  Miss  Germaine,  am  I  to  understand  that  you  refuse  to 
to  marry  me  ?  "  ^       ^ciu^e  10 

"  Decidedly,  sir." 

'  May  I  ask  your  reason  for  this  refusal.  Miss  Germaine  >  " 
1  recognize  no  right  by  which  you  are  privileged  to  ques- 
tion me,  Judge  Lawless,  but  because  of  the  respect  I  own 
one  so  much  my  senior,  I  will  say  that,  first,  I  do  not  love 
you;  second,  even  if  I  did,  I  would  not  marry  one  who  looks 
upon  me  as  so  far  beneath  him ;  and  third—"    She  paused 

t'^haf  befo?e^^^  ^""^^  "^°"  ^'^''  """"^    ''°^°'^'^   """'^  ''''''^^y 

"Well   Miss  Germaine,  and  t/i/rd,"  he  said,  sarcastically. 

1  will  answer  no  more  such  questions,  Judge  Lawless  " 

she  sain,  with  rirnnrl  inHitymtinn  •  " !T  •    ••  ■' 

...  T.Li- ^ -iSviignaiion  ,    and  I  n;peat  it  once  at^aip  • 

I  cannot  be  your  wife."  ^ 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  LOVER. 


279 


to  her  full 

ends  the 
you  have 


id.  She 
id  erectj 
irkening, 

s  a  sight 


'm  con- 
line,  you 
ible  you 
ible  you 

ust  dis- 
rminie's 
s  not  to 
1  fronted 
le,  mor- 
feelings, 
1  a  rosy 

efuse  to 


laine  ? " 

o  ques- 

I  own 

ot  love 
.0  looks 
paused, 
vividly 

>tically. 
wless," 
agaip  • 


"  That  remains  to  be  seen.  Miss  Germaine.  There  are 
more  ways  than  one  of  winning  a  lady ;  I  have  tried  one, 
and  failed ;    now  I  shall  have  recourse  to  another." 

"  Judge  Lawle  ,s,  is  that  meant  as  a  threat  ?  "  said  Erminie, 
her  proud  De  Courcy  blood  flushing  in  her  cheeks  and  light- 
ing up  her  eyes  again. 

He  smiled  slightly,  but  made  no  other  reply,  as  he  took 
his  hai  and  cane  and  prepared  to  go. 

"  Once  again.  Miss  Erminie,  before  I  go,  I  ask  you  if 
your  mind  is  fully  made  up  to  reject  me  ? " 

The  darkening,  streaming  light  of  the  violet  eyes  fixed  full 
upon  him  was  his  only  answer,  as  she  stood  drawn  up  to  her 
full  hight. 

"  Good  morning,  then,"  he  said,  with  a  courteous  smile. 
'*  I  do  not  despair,  even  yet.  Time  works  wonders,  you 
know,  Miss  Germaine.  Give  my  best  regards  to  your  excel- 
lent grandmother."  And  with  a  stately  bow,  a  la  Grandison, 
the  judge  left  the  cottage,  and  the  light  of  the  dark,  in- 
dignant,   beautiful  eyes. 

But  once  on  his  horse,  and  galloping  like  mad  over  the 
heath,  a  change  wonderful  to  see  came  over  the  bland  face 
of  the  judge.  Dark  and  darker  it  grew,  thicker  and  thicker 
was  his  scowl,  angrier  and  angrier  became  his  eyes,  until 
his  face  looked  like  a  human  thunder-cloud. 

"  The  proud,  conceited,  impertinent  minx  1  "  he  burst  out, 
"  to  refuse  me — me — me,  Judge  Lawless.  Why,  i  must 
be  mad  1  By  heaven  I  she  shall  be  mine  yet,  if  onij  )  teach 
her  a  lesson.  Black  Bart  is  in  Judestown.  I  saw  him  yes- 
terday ;  and  he,  with  his  fellow-smugglers,  or  pirates,  or  free- 
booters, or  whatever  they  are,  shall  aid  me  in  this.  It  does 
not  sound  well,  to  be  sure,  for  a  judge  of  the  land  to  tacitly 
favor  smuggling,  but  then  those  contraband  wines  and 
brandies  would  tempt  St.  Peter  himself.  They  shall  do  a 
different  kind  of  smuggUng  for  me  this  time.  In  the  Hidden 
Cave  Madame  Erminie  will  be  safe  enough,  and  that  queen 
of  the  smugglers,  or  whatever  she  is,  can  take  care  of  her. 
Refuse  me  1  by  the  hosts  above,  that  girl  shall  repent  her 
temerity  !     This  very  day  I  will  see  Black  Bart,  and  then — " 

He  compressed  his  lips  tight,  and  his  face  assumed  a  look 
of  dark,  grim  determination,  that  showed  his  resolution  was 
unalterable. 


1*'  »    IUI'1 — 


280 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


And  meanwhile  Erminie,  with  her  fair  face  bowed  in  hei 
hands,  was  weeping  the  bitterest  tears  she  had  ever  shed 
in  her  life. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


MR.    TOOSYPEGS    IN    DISTRESS    AGAIN. 

The  time  I've  lost  in  wooing, 

In  watching  and  pursuing 
The  light  that  lies  in  woman's  eyes, 

Has  been  my  heart's  undoing. 
Though  wisdom  oft  has  sought  me, 
I  scorned  the  lox'e  she  brought  me  ; 
My  only  books  were  woman's  looks. 
And  folly's  all  they've  taught  me. 

— Moore. 

Admiral.  Harry  riAVENFUL  sat  alone  in  the  parlor  of  the 
White  Squall,  the  heels  of  his  boots  elevated  on  the  knobs 
of  the  andirons,  his  chair  tipped  back  to  that  sublime  angle 
which  women  admire,  but  men  only  understand.  A  long 
meerschaum,  with  an  amber  mouth-piece,  protruded  from  his 
lips,  while  whiffs  of  blue,  vapory  smoke  cur.ed  from  the 
corner  of  his  mouth  ;  his  hands  stuck  in  his  trousers  pockets, 
and  his  eyes  fixed  admiringly  on  the  pink  and  yellow  ship-of- 
war  on  the  mantel.  Admiral  Harry  Havenful  was  enjoying 
life  hugely  on  a  small  scale,  when  a  dispirited  knock,  such 
as  moneyless  debtors  give,  was  neard  at  the  outer  door. 

"  Tumble  up,  below  there  !  tumble  up,  ahoy-y-y  I  "  roared 
the  admiral,  taking  the  pipe  from  his  mouth  to  summon  the 
servants. 

In  compliance  with  this  zephyr-like  uest,  one  of  the 
darkeys  "  tumbled  up,"  accordingly,  an:  opening  the  door, 
Mr.  O.  C  Toosypegs  stalked  in,  and  with  the  head  of  his 
cane  in  his  mouth,  entered  the  parlor  and  presented  himself 
to  the  jolly  little  admiral. 

"  D'ye  do,  Orlando  ?  give  us  your  flipper,"  said  the  admiral, 
protruding  one  huge  hand  without  rising,  or  even  turning  his 
head,  merely  casting  a  glance  over  his  shoulder,  and  smoking 
on  as  placidly  as  before. 


MR.  TOOSYPEGS  IN  DIST.lESS  AGAIN.     281 


«*  I'm  very  well — that  is,  I  ain't  very  well  at  all,  Admiral 
Havenful,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs,  grasping  the  huge  hand  and  wriggling  it  faintly  a  second 
or  two.  "  My  health  ain't  so  good  as  it  might  be,  and  I  don't 
expect  it  ever  will  be  again,  but  I'm  resigned  to  that  and 
everything  else  that  may  happen.  It's  nasty  to  be  always 
complaining,  you  know.  Admiral  Havenful." 

"  That's  so,"  growled  the  admiral,  in  a  tone  so  deeply 
bass  that  it  was  quite  startling. 

"  Therefore,  Admiral  Havenful,  though  I  ain't  so  well  as  I 
might  be,  I'm  very  well  indeed,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to 
you.  It  must  be  nice  to  die  and  have  no  more  bother 
— don't  you  think  so.  Admiral  Havenful  ?  "  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs,  with  a  groan  so  deep  that  the  admiral  took  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth  and  stared  at  him. 

"  What  now  ?  "  grunted  the  admiral,  who  foresaw  some- 
thing was  coming ;  "  heave  to  I  " 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  would  you  be  so  good  as  not  to  say 
that  ?  You  mean  well,  I  know,  but  you  can't  imagine  the 
unpleasant  sensations  it  causes — ugh !  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
with  a  wry  fact  and  a  shudder.  "  You  never  were  sea-sick, 
were  you.  Admiral  Havenful  ?  If  you  were,  you  don't  re- 
quire to  be  told  the  pang  that  heari)  ig  that  inflicts  upon  me. 
Therefore,  please  don't  say  it  again,  for  it  gives  me  the  most 
peculiar  sensations  that  even  was." 

The  admiral  grunted,  and  began  smoking  away  like  an  ill- 
repaired  chimney.  Mr.  'i'oosypegs  sat  uneasily  on  the  edge 
of  his  chair,  and  continued  to  make  a  light  and  rather  un- 
satisfactory repast  off  the  head  of  his  cane.  Thus  a  mourn- 
ful silence  was  continued  for  some  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes, 
and  then  f  liC  admiral  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  wiped  it  on 
the  cuff  of  his  sleeve,  and  without  looking  at  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
drew  a  long,  placid  breath,  and  held  it  out  toward  him  with 
a  laconic  : 

"  Smoke  ?  " 

*'  Thankee,  Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
mournfully,  "  I  never  do." 

♦'  More  fool  j^ou,  then,"  said  the  admiral,  grufify,  putting  it 
in  his  own  mouth  again. 

rvuiiiiiu'   i^uvciiiui,     buiu  ivii.    i  uusypegs,  in  a  large  lunc 
of  voice,  "  I'm  aware  that  I  ain't  so  wise  as   some   of  my 


I 


mjm^ 


IkJiMl  i'i»  9   I  ui  I 


••«  •  •  •» 


282 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


if- 
it   ' 


L  I- 


/!'■ 


friends  could  wish  me ;  but,  at  the  same  time  let  me  assure  you 
that  I  don't  consider  it  a  proof  of  wisdom    to  smoke  at  all 
Smokers  mean  real  well,  I  know,  but  it's  unpleasant  toothers* 
besides  setting  the  in'ards  in    a  dingy   state,  blacking   the 
teeth,  adulterating  the  breath,  and  often  producing  spontane- 
ous  combustion.     Which  means,    Admiral  Havenful,"said 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  elevating  his  cane  to  make  the  explanation 
'getting  worked  up  to  a  high  degree  of  steam,  and  going  off 
quite  unexpected  and  promiscuous,  some  day,  with  a  banc- 
and  leaving  nothing  behind  to  tell  the  melancholy  tale  butl^ 
pinch  of  ashes,  and  that — " 

"  Oh,  bother  1  "  cut  in  the  admiral,  impatiently,  "  Belay 
your  jawing  tackle,  young  man,  and  let  somebody  else  have 
sea-room.     What  port  do  you  hail  from  last  ? " 

"Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  no  way  of- 
fended at  this  cavalier  mode  of  treating  his  digression  on  the 
evils  of  smoking,  "  if  you  mean  by  that  where  I  was  all  morn- 
ing, I've  just  come  from  Dismal  Hollow.  Aunt  Prisciller 
wasn't  in— well,  she  wasn't  in  very  good  spirits— and  so  I 
got  out  of  the  back  door  and  come  away.  I  was  going  to 
Old  Barrens  Cottage,  only  I  saw  Judge  Lawless'  horse  before 
the  door,  and  so  I  came  here." 

"  Always  welcome,  Orlando,  boy— always  welcome,"  said 
the  admiral,  briskly.  "  But  hold  on  a  minute  i  What  the 
dickens  brings  that  stiff  bowspirit  of  a  brother-in-law  of 
mine  so  often  to  that  cottage  ?     Eh,  Orlando  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr 
Toosypegs.  "  It's  real  singular,  too,  because  he  never  used 
to  go  there  at  all,  and  now  his  horse  is  at  the  door  every 
day." 

"  So's  yours,  for  that  matter.     Hey,  Orlando  ?  " 
Mr.  Toosypegs  blushed  to  the  very  roots  of  his  hair,  and 
shifted  his  feet  uneasily  over  the   floor,  as   though  it  burnt 
them. 

"Orlando,"  said  the  admiral— holding  his  pipe  between 
his  finger  and  thumb,  and  regarding  significantly  these 
emotions—"  Orlando,  I  see  breakers  ahead  I  " 

"Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  tone  of 
mingled  uneasiness  and  anguish,  "  I  dare  say  you  do ;  but. 
my  gracious!  don't  keep  looking  at  a  fellow  so!  I 
couldn't  help  it,  you  know ;  and  I   know   it's  all    my   own 


MR   TOOSYPEGS  IN  DISTRESS  AGAIN.     283 


of 


fault  to  be  miserable  for  life.  I  don't  blame  anybody  at  all, 
and  I  rather  like  being  miserable  for  life  than  otherwise.  I 
know  you  mean  well,  but  I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  keep  look- 
ing at  me  so.     I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Orlando,"  solemnly  began  the  admiral,  without  removing 
•his  eyes  from  the  other's  face,  "  you're  steering  out  of  your 
course  altogether.     Come  to  anchor  !     Now,  then,  what's  to 
pay  ? " 

The  unexpected  energy  with  which  this  last  question  was 
asked  had  such  an  effect  on  the  nerves  of  Mr.  O.  C.  Toosy- 
pegs,  that  he  gave  a  sudden  jump,  suggestive  of  sitting  down 
on  an  upturned  pin  cushion,  and  grasped  '  s  stick  in  wild 
alarm. 

"  Now,  Orlando,"  repeated  the  admiral,  with  a  wave  of  his 
pipe — "  now,  Orlando,  the  question  is,  what's  to  pay  ?  " 

"  Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs  in  terror, 
"  there  ain't  nothing  to  pay  ;  I  don't  owe  a  cent  in  the  world, 
s'elp  me  Bob  1  I  don't  owe  a  single  blamed  brass  farthing 
to  a  child  unborn  1  " 

"  Pah  I  "  said  the  admiral,  with  a  look  of  intense  disgust  at 
his  obtuseness,  "  I  didn't  mean  that.  I  want  to  know 
what's  up,  where  the  wind  sits ;  what  you  keep  cruising  off 
and  on  that  cottage  for  all  the  time.  Now,  then,  hold 
hard  I  " 

"  It's  my  intention  to  hold  hard.  Admiral  Havenful," 
replied  Mr.  Toosypegs,  blushing  like  a  beet-root.  "  But  I'd 
rather  not  mention  what  takes  me  there,  if  it's  all  the  same 
to  you.  It's  a  secret,  locked  deep  in  the  unfathomable  re- 
cesses of  this  here  bosom  ;  and  I  never  mean  to  reveal  it  to 
anybody  till  I'm  a  melancholy  corpse  in  the  skies.  You'll 
excuse  me,  Admiral  Havenful ;  a  fellow  can't  always  restrain 
his  tears,  you  know ;  and  I  feel  so  miserable,  thank  you,  of 
late,  that  it's  a  consolation  even  to  cry,"  said  Mr.  Toosy- 
pegs, wiping  his  eye. 

"  Now,  Orlando,  you  just  hold  on  a  minute  — will  you?  " 
said  the  admiral,  facing  briskly  round,  with  much  the  same 
air  as  an  unfeeling  dentist  who  determines  to  have  your  tooth 
out  whether  you  will  or  not ;  "  now,  look  here  and  let's 
do  things  ship-shape.  Has  our  Firefly  got  anything  to  do 
with  it  ? " 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  I'm  happy  to  say  she  has  not.    I  felt 


284 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


pretty  badly  about  Miss  Pet,  there,  one  time ;  but  T  have  got 
nicely  over  that.  It  wasn't  near  so  dangerous  as  1  expected 
it  would  be  ;  but  this— this  is.  The  way  I  feel  sometimes, 
Admiral  Havenful,  is  awful  to  contemplate.  I  can't  sleep 
nor  eat,  and  I  don't  take  no  pleasure  even  n  my  new  panta- 
loons with  the  blue  stripe  down  the  side,  jl  often  lie  awake 
nights  crying  now,  and  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born  1  I  do 
wish  it  I  "  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  with  a  sudden  howl.  "  Where's 
the  good  of  it,  if  a  fellow's  going  to  be  made  miserable  this 
way,  I  want  to  know  ?  " 

_  "  Orlando  Toosypegs,"  <Bid  the  admiral,  rising,  sternly, 
"just  look  here,  will  you?  I'm  not  going  to  stand  this  sort 
of  talk,  you  know — this  fiying  in  the   face  of   Providence 
— here  the  admiral  raised  his  glazed  hat,  and  looked  rever- 
ently at  a  blue-bottle  fly  on  the  ceiling — "  because  it's  not 
proper  nor  ship-shape,  nohow  you  can  fix  it.    Now,  Orlando, 
I've  advised  you  time  and  again— I've  been  a  father  to  you 
before  you  was  the  size  of  a  tar-bucket— I've  turned  you  up 
and  spanked   you  when  you  wasn't  big   as   a   well-grown 
marlin    _  "ke,  and  I've  often  given  you  a  good  kicking  when 
you  were   older,  for  your  shortcomings;  I've  talked  to  you, 
Orlando   Toosypegs,  for  your  good  till  all  was  blue— I've 
made  myself  as  hoarse  as  a  boatswain  splashing  showers  of 
good  advice  on  you  ;  and  now  what's  my  return  .?     You  say 
you  don't  see  no  use  in  being  born.     Orlrndo,  it  grieves  me 
—it  makes  me  feel  as  bad  as  if  I  had  drank  a  pail  of  bilge- 
water  ;  but  there  is  no  help  for  it !     I  give  you  up  to  ruin— 
I've  lost  all  faith   in  human   morals — I  wash  my  hands  of 
you  altogether  I  " 

Here  the  admira!  looked  around  for  some  water  to  literal- 
ly fulfill  liis  threat ;  but,  seeing  none,  he  wiped  his  hands 
on  the  table-cloth,  and  resumed  his  seat  with  the  air  a  Spar- 
tan father  may  be  supposed  to  have  worn  when  condemning 
his  own  son  to  death. 

So  deeply  affected  was  Mr.  Toosypegs  by  this  pathetic  ex- 
hortation that  he  sobbed  away  like  a  hyena  in  his  flarino- 
bandanna,  with  a  great  noise  and  much  wiping  of  eyes  and 
nose,  which  showed  he  was  not  lost  to  all  sense  of  human 
feeling. 

"^Yes,  Orlando,'"  said  the  admiral,  mournfully,  "  I  repeat 
it,  I'm.  determined  to  wash  my  hands  of  you.  The  basin  ain't 


MR:  TOOSYPEGS  IN  DISTRESS  AGAIN.     285 


have  got 
expected 
^metimes, 
in't  sleep 
ew  panta- 
lie  awake 
•n !  I  do 
'  Where's 
rable  this 

,  sternly, 
this  sort 
•evidence 
:ed  rever- 
e  it's  not 
Orlando, 
er  to  you 
d  you  up 
ell-grown 
ing  when 
i  to  you, 
ue — I've 
lowers  of 
You  say 
ieves  me 
of  bilge- 
o  ruin — 
lands   of 

0  literal- 
is  hands 
■  a  Spar- 
demning 

hetic  ex- 
flaring 
iyes  and 
f  human 

1  repeat 
sin  ain't 


■ 


here ;  but  it's  no  matter.  Your  father  was  a  nice  man,  and 
I'm  sorry  his  son  ever  come  to  this." 

"  Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  hiccoughing 
violently,  "  I'm  ashamed  of  myself.  I  oughtn't  to  have  said 
it  and  1  won't  do  so  no  more  at  any  price.  I  know — I  know 
I  oughtn't  mind  being  wretched,  but  somehow  I  do,  and  I 
can't  help  it.  It  you'll  only  forgive  me,  and  not  wash  your 
hands  of  me,  I'll  tell  you  what's  the  matter  and  promise  to 
try  and  do  better  for  the  time  to  come." 

•'  Well,  heave  ahead  I  "  said  the  somewhat  mollified  mari 

ner. 

"  Admiral  Havenful  1 "  exclaimed  Mr.  Toosypegs,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet  with  such  startling  energy  that  the  old  sailor 
jumped  up,  too,  and  brandished  his  pipe,  expecting  a  violent 
personal  assault  and  battery — "  will  you  be  good  enough  not 
to  say  that  ?  Oh,  my  gracious  1 "  exclaimed  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
in    a   wildly-distracted  tone,   "if  it  ain't   too  darned  bad. 

Ugh  1  " 

And  with  a  violent  shudder  and  a  sea-green  visage,  the 
unhappy  young  man  sat  down,  with  one  hand  on  his  mouth 
and  the  other  on  his  dinner. 

With  a  violent  snort  of  unspeakable  contempt,  the  admiral 
flung  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  turned  up  his  Roman 
nose  to  the  highest  possible  angle  of  scorn. 

"Excuse  me,  Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
at  length,  in  a  fainting  voice,  "I  ft  el  better,  now.  It  was 
so — so  sudden,  and  took  me  so  unexpected,  that — that  it 
rather  startled  me  ;  but  I'm  quite  well  now.  I'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you.  Ugh  1  The  very  mention  of— you  know  what 
follows  sea-sickness — turns  my  very  skin  to  goose-flesh.  We 
won't  speak  of  it  any  more,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  Ad- 
miral Havenful.  I  promised  to  tell  you  the  cause  of  my 
misery— didn't  I?    Yes?     Well,  it's— it's  Miss  Minnie." 

"  Little  Snowflake  1  hea — I  mean  go  ahead." 

"  I  went  and  fell  in  love  with  her,  Admiral  Havenful," 
said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  looking  around  blush"    ;, 

"  Stand  from  under  I  "    growled   the    bewidered  admiral. 

"  Admiral  Havenful,  it's  my  intention  to  stand  from  under 
as  much  as  possible.  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said 
Mr.  Toosypegs,  politely.  "  I  dare  say  you're  surprised  to 
hear  it,  but  I  really  couldn't  help  it.     I  assure  you  she  was 


286 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


so-so  stunning,  so  as— I  don't  know  what  to  call  it  •  but 
It  s  enough  to  turn  a  fellow  crazy,  by  granny  I  I  know  she 
don  care  a  pin  for  me.  I  know  she  don't,  and  nobody  can 
tell  the  s  ate  it  throws  me  into.  I  thought  I  felt  dreadfully 
about  Miss  Pet's  black  eyes,  and  I  did%oo  ;  but  it  ain'c  no 
circumstance  to  the  state  Miss  Minnie's  blue  ones  pitches 
me  into.  Admiral  Havenful,  I  don't  expect  you've  ever 
been  in  love,  but  it's  the  most  awful  state  to  be  in  ever  was 
It  makes  you  feel  worse  than  sitting  down  into  a  wasp's 
nes  _,t  really  does.  In  fact,  I  don't  know  anything,  except, 
perhaps,  seasickness,  that's  equal  to   it  in   unpleasantness^' 

bo  completely  unexpected  was  this  declaration,  that  the 
admiral  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  look  appealingly  at  his 
pipe  and  growl  out,  "  Heave  ahead  1" 

The  effect  of  this  command  on  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  his 
present  disordered  state  of  mind  was  perfectly  electrifying 
Springing  to  his  feet,  he  seized  his  hat  and  cane,  clapped 
his  bandanna  to  his  mouth,  and,  with  a  look  of  intense  an- 
gmsh  no  pen  can  describe,  made  a  rush  from  the  door,  fled 
from  the  house,  and  vanished  for  the  remainder  of  that  day 
from  mortal  eye.  ^ 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


* 


MISS  LAWLESS  IN  DIFFICULTIES. 

"  The  hypocrite  had  left  his  mask,  and  stood 
In  naked  uehness.     He  was  a  man 
Who  stole  the  livery  of  the  court  of  Heaven 
To  serve  the  devil  in. "  -Pollock. 

Three  hours  after  his  interview  and  rejection  by  Erminie 
Judge  Lawless  alighted  at  the  inn-door  in  Judestown  The 
obsequious  landlord  came  out  all  bows  and  smiles  to 
greet  the  grand  seignor  of  this  rustic  town,  and  ushered  him 
into  the  parlor  with  as  much,  and  considerably  more,  respect 
than  he  would  have  shown  to  the  king  of  Englana,  had  that 
gentleman  condescended  to  visit  the  ''  Judestown  House  " 
as  the  flaming  gilt  sign-board  announced  it  to  be. 

"  Glass   wine,  sir  ?  brandy  water,  sir  ?  s'gar,  sir .?  anything 
you  want,  sir? "  insinuated  mine  host,  all  in  a  breath 


11  it ;    but 
enow  she 
)body  can 
Ireadfully 
t  ain't  no 
s  pitches 
I've   ever 
3ver  was. 
a  wasp's 
;,  except, 
mtness.'" 
that  the 
ly  at  his 

,  in  his 
:trifying. 
clapped 
inse  an- 
oor,  fled 
that  day 


DCK. 

Crminie, 
I.  The 
liles  to 
red  him 
respect 
lad  that 
iouse," 

nything 


MISS  LAWLESS  IN  DIFFICULTIES.        287 

«*  No,  my  good  man,  I  want  nothing,  said  the  judge,  with 
a  pompous  wave  of  his  jeweled  hand  ;  •'  I  have  come  on 
important  business  this  afternoon.  Is  there  a  somewhat 
dissipated  character,  a  sailor,  called  Black — Black — really 
I—" 

"  Bart,  sir  ?  Yes,  sir.  Here  five  minutes  'go  sir,"  breath- 
lessly cut  in  the  landlord. 

"  Ah  1  "  said  the  judge,  slowly,  passing  his  hand  over  his 
mustache ;  '*  can  you  find  him  for  me  ?  1  wish  to  see  him. 
I  have  reason  to  believe  he  can  give  me  some  information 
concerning  these  smugglers  who  of  late  have  alarmed  the 
good  people  around  here  so  much." 

"  Yes,  sir,  hunt  him  up  five  minutes  sir."  And  off  bustled 
the  host  of  the  Judestown  House  in  search  of  Black  Bart. 

Judge  Lawless  arose  with  knit  brows  and  began  pacing  ex- 
citedly up  and  down  the  room  when  alone.  He  knew  this 
Black  Bart  well,  knew  all  about  the  smugglers,  too,  as  his 
well-stocked  cellar  could  testify.  Judge  Lawless  found  them 
very  useful  in  various  ways  and  having  a  remarkably  elastic 
conscience  of  his  own  was  troubled  with  no  scruples  about 
cheating  the  revenue,  so  long  as  bis  wine-bin  was  well 
supplied.  But  this  was  abduction — something  more  danger- 
ous, something  that  required  all  his  wounded  self-love,  and 
disappointed  passion,  and  intense  mortification  to  give  him 
courage  for.  But  his  plans  were  formed.  For  money  he 
knew  Black  Bart  and  his  comrades  would  do  anything,  and 
money  Judge  Lawless  had  in  plenty. 

Half  an  hour  passed.  The  judge  began  to  cast  many  an 
impatient  glance  toward  the  door,  when  a  bold,  vigorous 
knock  was  heard.  Knocks  are  very  expressive  to  those  who 
understand  them  ;  they  speak  as  plainly  as  words  ;  and  this 
one  was  given  with  a  loud,  surly  independence,  that  said, 
just  as  plainly  as  lips  could  speak: "  I  am  as  good  a  man  as 
you  are,  Judge  Lawless,  and  I  don't  care  a  curse  for  you  or 
all  the  revenue  officers  from  here  to  Land's  End."  Juv'.ge 
Lawless  understood  it,  and  throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  he 
called  out,  blandlv : 

"  Come  in." 

The  door  opened,  and  a  short,  thick-set,  weather-beaten, 
frrim-lnnkinp-  old  "^pa-Hnp-  made,  his  annearanre,  and  p-ivintr 
his  head  a  slight  jerk  to  one  side,  by  way  of  acknowledging 


233 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


If   ,'5 


Mi 


tli 

Hit 


the  judge's  presence,  walked  straight  up  to  the  firenhrf^  nn^ 
dohberatdyspita  discharge  of   tobaccl    i  e  Hgh't    „  ;    h^ 
eyes  of  an  unoffending  cat,  by  way  of  ccmn.enci,tg  bu"  ?,o  I 
n  turmng  h.s  back  to  the  n.antel,  he  put  his  hands  beL V  d 
itions  ''  ""'  ''^"^  •■"''^^>'  *°  commence  ope. 

"  Well,  square,  what's  in  the  wind  now  ?  "  demanded  the 
to  IpX'  '''  '"'^"'''  """^'  ''''  ^"'^'^'  ^'^  -^  serrndined 
job  f^r'you'''''  "''  ^"''^'''  '"  '  ^^^'  "''^■"^^°"=*  tone.  "  I  have  a 
the^oM  Hn?> '-''"  ^'"^  '  ^^'^^'^  •^'   ^^^^  ?      Anythin,  in 

yo:^;a!n'he^r:!^f"^"'^'''^^^"^- «-  ^-^*^^^^ 

';  Can't  say  for  certain,  boss.  The  schooner's  off  a-rf>- 
painn  and  we're  tryin'  the  land  dodge  till  she's  ready  Vaifl 
no  telling  though,  yet,  when  that  may  be  "  ^  ^ 

u  rC'n-'"''-?'^?  ""'^^r  t,^^°"^P^"'^s  yo"  '"^ere  likewise  ?  " 
Cap  n  s  wife  ?      Well,    yes,  square,  I    reckon    she    is 
What  do  you  want  of  her  ?  "  ^' 

carrv  ^ff"'  n  '  '°  take  charge  of  a  young  girl  that  you  must 
carry  ott.     Do  you  understand  ? "  /         tuoi 

yo:'^^i;tr^':^^"'^'"'  ^"^  ^^"-- '     come,  square, 

do'd'r;:,'  Lt? -' '"  '^^^^^'^  ^^^^ '  ^^^  ^-  -^-^^ke  to 

I'm'  Jhe^re  I  ''^'^'  ''  """''^  ""^"^  '  ^^'^  ^^^'^  '^^  "^^^ful,  and 

^;' Money  you  shall  have ;  but  do  you  think   this  woman 
will  undertake  to  look  after  the  girP ''  woman 

caDV:f  l^r'  '^"''^' '  u°"''  '^y  '  *^^'  ^°'"^"-'  Call  her  the 
cap  n  s  lady-sounds  better.  Oh,  she's  got  nothing  to  do 
with  It ;  she's  got  to  mind  the  cap  n.     Who's  the  gaP  '' 

f h.  vt  ""u  '''  '°"'^'  "'^"  '     ^°  y°"  know  the  cottage  on 

the  Barrens,  between  Dismal  Hollow  and  Heath  HilP  " 

f.lt    K     ^^  ^°°k\,.Why'  square,  it's  not  that  beauty  they 
name?''  "  ^^^^-^^''^^-danged  if  I  don't  forget  the 

-  Never  mind  the  name— it's  of  no  consequence.     She's 
the  girK     Do  vou  know  her  ?  "  vi«<i"vc.     one  s 


cplace,  and 
:ht  into  the 
t(  I)usinesh. 
nds  beliind 
ence  opei 

ancled  the 
m  inclined 

"  I  have  a 

nythin^  in 

lon^  di: 

i  off  a-re- 
ly  again  I 

/ise  ? " 
she    is. 

^ou  must 

I,  square, 

2rtake  to 

iful,  and 

woman 

her  the 
g  to  do 
?  " 

ttage  on 
[?" 

ty  they 
•get  the 

She's 


MISS  LAWLESS  IN  DIFFICULTIES.         289 

"  Hain't  the  Iionor ;  but  one  of  our  crew,  a  sort  of  dry-water 
sailor,  knows  her;  I'll  bring  him  along,  and  everything  will 
go  o"  like  a  new  broom.*' 

"  You  must  be  careful  to  not  mention  my  name — not  even 
to  her ;  because  it  would  be  a  dreadful  thing  for  me  if  this 
were  found  out." 

"  Don't  be  scary,  square,  I'll  be  as  close  as  a  clam  at  high 
water.     When  do  you  want  us  to  captivate  the  little  dear  ?  " 

"  To-night — any    time — the  sooner  the  better  1  " 

"  Will  you  be  on  hand  yourself,  square  ?  " 

*'  No  1  To  avoid  the  faintest  shadow  of  suspicion — though 
such  is  not  likely  to  rest  on  me  in  any  case — I  will  start  for 
Baltimore  immediately,  within  the  very  hour,  and  there 
remain  till  all  the  hubbub  her  disappearance  causes  has 
passed  away.  You  will  keep  her  securely  in  your  hidden 
cave  all  the  time ;  and  when  the  exciteiiient  has  died  out  I 
will  come  and  relieve  you  of  your  charge." 

"  You're  a  brick,  square — you  are,  by  Lord  Harryl  What 
will  be  your  next  dodge,  then  ?  " 

"  That's  as  may  be  ;  most  probably  I  shall  take  her  with 
me  to  England.  That's  to  be  thought  of  yet,  however  ;  but 
I'll  find  a  way,  never  fear." 

"  Square,  they  ought  to  '  lect  you  to  the  Senate — diing 
my  buttons  if  they  oughtn't  I  When  I  get  unseaworthy  I'm 
going  to  set  up  for  myself ;  can  lie  and  fight,  and  roar  at 
'tagonists  like  a  brick ;  and  got  all  the  other  qualifications, 
too  numerous  to  mention." 

And  with  this  slander  on  senators  in  general,  Black  Bart 
clapped  half  a  plug  of  tobacco  in  the  other  cheek,  and  in- 
dulged in  a  quiet  chuckle. 

"  Well,  that's  all,  I  believe,"  said  the  judge,  rising.  "  You 
think  you  will  know  this  girl  when  you    see  her  ?  " 

"  I  won't — t'other  one  will — trust  me,  square  ;  I'll 
and  see  him  now,  and  him  and  me  will  take  a  stroll 
that  way." 

"  If  she  could  be  inveigled  from  the  house  alter  night 
it  would  be  the  best  time  and  way,"  said  the  judge, 
musingly. 

Leave  all  them  particulars  to  me,  square  :  I'll  fix  thing?; 

You  know  me.     Now,  Bart,  remember, 


off 
round 


SO 


(( 


"  When  I  return. 


290 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


If     'V 


)'■ ': 


tonight  if  you  can  ;  in  three  or  four  weeks  at  the  furthest,  I 
will  return." 

The  judge  turned  and  left  the  room,  mounted  his  horse 
and  rode  off.  Black  Bart  hitched  up  his  pantaloons,  and 
then  fell  back  in  a  chair,  snapping  his  fingers,  flourishing  his 
heels,  and  indulging  in  such  tremendous  roars  of  laughter 
that  the  landlord  rushed  in,  in  deadly  alarm,  to  see  what 
awful  calamity  had  happened. 

But  still  Black  Bart  gave  vent  to  such  appalling  laughter- 
claps,  without  speaking,  throwing  himself  back  as  if  his 
spine  was  made  of  steel  springs,  and  then  jerking  himself 
straight  again,  kicking  his  heels,  snapping  his  finger  and 
thumb,  and  indulging  in  such  extraordinary  antics  of  delight, 
that  Boniface,  completely  at  a  loss,  stood  staring  at  him  in 
silent  wonder,  thinking  the  judge's  communication,  whatever 
it  might  have  been,  had  completely  turned  his  brain. 

"  There,  Bart,  be  quiet  now,"  said  the  host,  soothingly. 
"  You're  scaring  the  people  in  the  shop  out  of  their  wits. 
What's  the  matter  with  you,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Nothing  1  "  replied  Black  Bart,  going  off  into  another 
roar,  more  deafening,  if  possible,  than  the  first. 

"  Well,  I  must  say  '  nothing '  seems  to  be  rather  funny," 
said  the  puzzled  landlord.  '*  Was  the  judge  pumping  you 
about  the  smugglers  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Lord,  don't  I  "  shouted  the  sailor  with  such  a 
yell  of  laughter,  and  putting  himself  into  sudi  frightful 
contortions  of  delight  that  the  startled  host  stepped  back 
and  grasped  the  handle  of  the  door  with  an  alarmed  glance 
toward  his  strange  customer. 

"I'm  off  now,"  said  Bart  at  length,  as  soon  as  he  had  re- 
covered from  this  last  paroxysm  ;  and  wiping  the  tears  from 
his  eyes,  he  started  at  a  Flora  Temple  pace  down  the  street, 
pausing,  however,  now  and  then,  as  his  lively  sense  of  the 
ridiculous  overcame  him,  to  indulge  in  another  terrifying  peal 
of  laughter,  till  affrighted  pedestrians  fled  from  him  in  horror, 
thinking  a  dangerous  lunatic  had  somewhere  broken  loose. 

He  reached  a  low,  smoky,  obscure  drinking  den,  near  the 
end  of  the  town,  at  last,  and  passing  through  the  bar-room 
he  entered  another  low,  dirty,  dingy  apartment,  where  the 
first  individual  on  whom  his  eyes  rested,  was  our  some-time 
friend,  Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet. 


furthest,  I 

1  his  horse 
:aloons,  and 
urishing  his 
of  laughter 
0  see  what 

ig  laughter- 
ck  as  if  his 
ing  himself 

finger  and 
s  of  delight, 
g  at  him  in 
n,  whatever 
rain, 
soothingly. 

their  wits. 

ito  another 

tier  funny," 
imping  you 

th  such  a 
■^  frightful 
;pped  back 
med  glance 

s  he  had  re- 
i  tears  from 
n  the  street, 
sense  of  the 
rifying  peal 
n  in  horror, 
oken  loose, 
en,  near  the 
e  bar-room 
:,  where  the 
r  bome-time 


MISS  LAWLESS  IN  DIFFICULTIES.        291 

"  Well,  Bart,"  asked  that  gentleman,  eagerly,  "  what  did 
judge  Lawless  want  of  you  in  such  haste  ?  " 

"  Oil  I  ha  !  ha !  ha !  ha  I  ha  !  ha  !  "  roared  Black  Bart,  in  a 
perfect  agony  of  enjoyment.  "  If  it  isn't  about  the  best 
fun  I've  ever  heard  tell  on.  Why,  man  alive,  you'd  never 
guess  if  you  were  to  try  from  this  ro  doomsday.  Judge 
Lawless,  the  saint,  the  angel,  the  parson,  has  fell  in  love 
and  wants  the  girl  carried  off  I  Oh !  ha  I  ha !  ha  I  ha  1  I'll 
split  my  sides  1  " 

Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet  did  not  join  in  Black  Bart's  merriment. 
He  opened  his  eyes  to  their  widest  extent,  and  indulged  in 
a  long,  low  whistle,  expressive  of  any  amount  of  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Who's  the  girl  ?  "  he  asked,  at  length. 

"  That  wonderful  beauty  at  Old  Barrens  Cottage— noth- 
ing shorter.  Everything  arranged,  and  the  square  will  come 
down  like  a  prince— or  if  he  doesn't,  we'll  make  him.  I 
don't  know  her;  so  you're  to  come  with  me,  and  to<^ether 
we'll  carry  off  the  girl  the  first  chance.  The  judge  has 
gone  to  Baltimore  to  keep  out  of  harm's  way,  and  won't  be 
back  for  three  or  four  weeks.  Ain't  it  beautiful  ?  The  old 
judge  in  love!     Hal  ha!  ha!  " 

shed 'a  project  of  revenge  across  the 
None  of  the  smugglers  knew  either 
-why  not  carry  off  Pet  instead  of 
the  other,  and  thus  gratify  h"  wn  passions,  disappoint  the 
judge,  and  have  revenge.  Ine  blood  flashed  fiercely  and 
hotly  to  his  face  as  he  thought  of  it ;  and  he  rose  and  walked 
to  the  window  to  hide  his  emotion  from  the  keen  eyes  of  his 
fdlow-smuggler— for  Garnet  had  joined  them  in  their  roving 
life  after  leaving  the  judge's. 

"  Well,  old  fellow,  what  do  you  say  to  it  ?  "  asked  Black 
Bart. 

"  I'm  your  man  1  "   exclaimed  Garnet,  turning  from  the 
window,  all  his  customary  cool  composure  restored.     "  We 
1  will   start  immediately,    and  keep  watch  until  night ;  it  is 

I  more  than  probable  we  will  see  her  before  then,  and,  as  the 

I  judge  says,  the  sooner  the  better.     Come  along." 

I  Had  Petronilla's  lucky  star  set  ?  had  her  eood  ane-el  de- 

I  serted  her  ?  had  Satan  come  to  the  assistance' of  his  earthly 

myrmidons  ?  had  the  Fates  willed  it,  that  her  pony  "  Starlight " 


Like  lightning  ther' 

mind  of  Rozzel  Garnei. 

Erminie  or  Pet  Lawless- 


Tf 


't  V   It   t 


292 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I'- 


n ' 


i       ■! 


should  on  that  eventful  day  cast  a  shoe,  lame   himself,  and 
so  be  unfit  to  ride  ? 

Pet  rambled  restlessly  about  the  house,  one  minute  terrify- 
ing rooks,  and  bats,  and  swallows  from  their  homes  in  the 
eaves  and  chimneys,  by  banging  away  at  some  new  polka 
on  the  piano  ;  the  next,  seizing  the  bellows  for  a  partner, 
and  going  waltzing  round  the  room ;  the  next,  rushing  like  a 
mad  thing  as  she  was,  up  stairs,  and  then  sliding  down  the 
banisters. 

"  For,"  said  Pet,  "  exercise  is  good  for  the  health  ;  and  as 
Aunt  Deb  won't  let  me  ride  the  clothes-horse,  I'm  going  to 
try  this." 

And  try  it  she  did,  till  she  tore  the  dress  nearly  off  her 
back ;  and  then,  getting  tired  of  this,  she  determined  to  go 
over  to  the  Old  Barrens  Cottage,  and  see  Erminie. 

The  day  was  beautiful  ;  so  Pet  determined  to  walk. 
Throwing  a  light  muslin  cape  over  her  shoulders,  and  pull- 
ing a  broad  straw  flat  down  over  her  eyes,  the  dark-eyed 
"  heiress,  beauty,  and  belle,"  set  out,  singing  as  she  went. 

Somehow,  since  the  return   of  Ray,   Pet  had  visited  the 
cottage  much  less   frequently  than   usual   and   in  all  prob- 
ability would  not  have  gone  now,   only   she   knew  he  had 
gone  to  Judestown  that  morning  and  was  not  expected  back 
until  the  next  day.     Pet  saw  that  he   shunned   and   avoided 
her  :  and  no  matter  how  easy  and   natural  he  had  been  a 
moment  before,  the  instant  she  entered  he   wrapped  himself 
in  his  very  coldest  mantle  of  reserve,  and  looked  more  like  a 
banished  prince  than  common  Christian.     Pet  saw  this ;  and 
her  own  heart,  as  proud  as  his  in  another  way,  swelled  with 
wounded  feeling  and  indignation  ;  and  she    inwardly  vowed 
to  let  him  see  that  she  cared  just  as  little  for  him  as  he  could 
possibly  care  fur  her.     Poor  Pet !  this  conviction  and  resolu- 
tion cost  her  the  first  bitter  tears  she  had  ever   shed   in  her 
whole  sunshiny  life  ;  but  as  she  felt  them   falling  warm  and 
fast,  she  sprung  quickly  up,  dashed  them  indignantly  away, 
as  if  ashamed  to  own  even  to   her  own  heart  how  much   she 
cared  for  him. 

"  No ;  he  shall  never  know  that  I  cared  two  pins  about 
him  1  "  exclaimed  Pet,  with  flashing  eyes  and  flushing  cheeks. 
"  He  dislikes  me  ;  I  can  see  that  plainly  enough  ;  and  if  he 
was  a  prince  of  the  blood  royal,  I  would  not  stoop  to    sue 


MISS  LAWI^ESS  IN  DIFFICULTIES.        293 


imself,  and 


lute  terrify- 
mes  in  the 
new  polka 
r  a  partner, 
shing  like  a 
r  down  the 

1th ;  and  as 
'm  going  to 

irly  off  her 
nined  to  go 
e. 

d   to    walk. 
:s,  and  puU- 
i  dark-eyed 
;he  went. 
I  visited  the 
in  all  prob- 
new  he  had 
pected  back 
nd  avoided 
had  been  a 
ped  himself 
more  like  a 
iw  this  ;  and 
swelled  with 
irdly  vowed 
1  as  he  could 
I  and  resolu- 
shed   in  her 
g  warm  and 
lantly  away, 
w  much   she 

pins  about 
hing  cheeks. 
, ;  and  if  he 
toop  to    sue 


for  his  favor.  I  don't  care  for  him  ;  I  won't  care  for  him. 
I  just  hate  him — a  stiff,  haughty,  young  Turk — there  now  1  " 

And  then  having  relieved  her  mind  by  a  "  real  good  cry," 
Pet  got  up  and  whistled  to  her  dogs,  and  set  off  for  a  scam- 
per round  the  yard,  to  the  great  detriment  of  her  gaiters,  and 
^he  alarming  increase  of  her  appetite.  Pet  wasn't  sentimen- 
tal ;  so  she  neither  took  to  sighing  nor  star-gazing,  nor  writ- 
ing poetry ;  but  pursued  the  even,  or  rather  uneven,  tenor  of 
her  way,  and  inwardly  vowed  that,  "  if  nobody  cared  for 
her,  she  would  care  for  nobody." 

Little  did  Pet  know  the  real  cause  of  Ray's  avoidance. 
High-spirited  and  proud,  almost  morbid  in  his  pride  at  times, 
and  loving  this  dazzling,  sparkling  vision  of  beauty  and 
brightness  more  and  more  every  time  he  saw  her,  he  felt  it 
his  duty  to  shun  her  as  much  as  possible.  To  know  this 
star-eyed,  dazzling,  dancing  fay  without  loving  her  was  a 
simple  impossibility  ;  and  Ray  Germaine,  with  his  passion- 
ate admiration  of  beauty,  and  fiery  gipsy  blood,  loved  her 
with  an  intensity  that  only  hot,  passionate,  Southern  natures 
like  his  can  feel.  And  with  this  mad  love  was  the  certain 
conviction  that  he  might  as  well  love  a  "  bright,  particular 
star,"  and  hope  to  win  it,  as  the  wealthy  heiress  of  Judge 
Lawless,  who  was  soon  destined  to  make  her  de/>uf  in  the 
gilded  salons  of  Washington  city,  where  all  the  lions  of  the 
capital  would  soon  be  in  adoration  at  her  feet.  And  he 
— what  was  he  ?  The  grandson  of  a  gipsy  woman,  educated 
by  the  bounty  of  a  stranger.  What  was  he  that  he  should 
dare  to  lift  his  eyes  to  this  peerless  beauty  and  belle  ? 
Proud,  as  we  have  said  he  was,  to  excess,  he  shunned  and 
avoided  her  for  whom  he  would  have  given  up  the  wide 
world  and  all  it  contained,  has  he  possessed  it,  lest  in  some 
unguarded  moment  he  should  divulge  the  one  secret  of  his 
fierce  and  daily  increasing  love. 

And  in  this  unpleasant  way  matters  stood  on  the  day  when 
Pet  set  out  from  Heath  Hill  to  Old  Barrens  Cottage.  Pet 
was  a  good  walker  ;  but,  owingto  the  intense  heat,  she  was 
completely  tired  out  by  the  time  she  reached  the  cottage. 
Erminie  alone  was  there,  ready  to  welcome  her  friend  with 
her  own  peculiar  sunshiny  smile. 

It  was  very  pleasant,  that  cool,  breezy  sitting-room,  that 
scorchingly  hot  day,  with  its  plain  straw   matting,  its  cool; 


294 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I 


I  V. 
ft 


green,  Venetian  blinds,  its  plump,  tempting,  cushioned  rock- 
ing-chairs,  and  fragrant  bouquets  of  flowers  in  glasses  of 
pure,  sparkling  water.  But  the  prettiest,  pleasantest  sight 
of  all  was  its  lovely  young  mistress  in  her  simple,  beauti- 
fully-fitting dress  of  blue  gingham,  with  its  snowy  collar  and 
little  black  silk  apron  boasting  the  cunningest  pockets  in  the 
world ;  her  shiny  hair  floating  twined  in  broad  damp  braids 
round  her  superb  little  head ;  and  where  the  sunshine  lin- 
gered lovingly  upon  it,  seeming  like  a  shining  glory  over  her 
smooth  white  brow.  Yes,  it  was  very  pleasant— the  pretty 
cottage-room  ;  the  lovely  cottage  maiden  ;  and  yet  the  dark, 
bright,  dazzling  brunette  in  her  glancing  shot  silk,  with 
her  flashing  jetty  curls,  her  lustrous,  splendid  Syrian  eyes, 
of  midnight  blackness  ;  her  whole  vivacious,  restless,  glitter- 
ing, entrancing  face  and  form  lost  nothing  by  contrast  with 
any  one  in  the  world. 

"  Well,  I  declare,  Ermie,  I  don't  know  any  place  in  the 
wide  world  half  as  cool  and  pleasant  as  this  cottage  of 
yours.  Now,  at  Heath  Hill  it's  enough  to  roast  an  African. 
Goodness  I  how  hot  I  am  I  "  said  Pet,  commencing  to  fan 
herself  vigorously. 

"  The  sea-breeze  makes  this  cool,"  said  Erminie;  "  that  is 
the  reason.  I  am  so  glad  you  came  over  this  afternoon,  for 
Ray,  you  know,  is  not  coining  home  to-night.  It  is  really 
too  bad,  I  think,  that  he  should  leave  us  and  go  back  ac^ain 
to  that  tiresome  New  York  so  soon."  ^ 

"  Ah  1  when  is  he  going?  "  said  Pet,  still  violently  fanning 
herself,  though  her  bright  bloom  of  color  was  far  less  vivid 
then  it  had  been  a  moment  before. 

'/  The  day  after  to-morrow,  he  says  ;  and  not  to  return  for 
perhaps  a  year.  I  will  feel  dreadfully  lonesome,  I  know, 
and  grandmother  will  miss  him  so  much.  But  young  men 
are  so  headstrong  and  self-willed  that  there  is  no  doing  any- 
thing with  them— don't  you  think  so,  Pet .?  "  said  Erminie 
smiling.  ' 

"  Never  tho  ight  on  the  subject  as  I  know  of;  but  I  dare 
say  they  are.  They're  not  to  be  blamed  for  it,  though  ;  it 
runs  m  man's  wretched  nature.  Ah  !  I  never  was  properly 
thankful  for  not  being  a  man  till  on.^  day  I  went  and  dressed 
myself  in  a  suit  of  their  clothes.  Such  wretrhpHlv  fpe'incr 
things  as  they  were,  to  be  sure  !     I've   never  been  in  thi 


oned  rock- 
glasses  of 
itest  sight 
le,  beauti- 
collar  and 
kets  in  the 
np  braids 
shine  lin- 
y  over  her 
:he  pretty 
the  dark, 
silk,  with 
rian  eyes, 
ss,  glitter- 
trast  with 

ce  in  the 

ottage    of 

African. 

ig  to  fan 

;  "  that  is 

noon,  for 

is  really 

Lck  again 

^  fanning 
ess  vivid 

■eturn  for 

I    know, 

ung  men 

oing  any- 

Erminie, 

ut  I  dare 
ough ;  it 
properly 
i dressed 
Y  feeling 
n  in  the 


MISS  LAWLESS  IN  DIFFICULTIES.         295 

stock,  or  the  pillory,  or  stretched  on  a  rack,  or  walking 
through  a  treadmill,  or  any  of  those  other  disagreeable 
things ;  but  even  since  then  I've  a  pretty  good  notion  of 
what  they  must  be  like.  It  was  a  regular  martyrdom  while 
I  had  them  on,  and  how  the  mischief  anybody  ever  can  sur- 
vive in  them  is  more  than  I  know.  Think  of  descending  to 
posterity  in  a  pair  of  pants  I  " 

Erminie  laughed,  and  Pet  rattled  on  till  tea  was  ready. 
Then  they  drank  Lucy's  fragrant  black  tea,  and  ate  her 
delicate  nice  waffles,  and  praised  her  jam  ;  and  then,  when  the 
sun  had  long  set,  and  the  dark,  cool,  evening  shadows  began 
to  fall.  Pet  got  up,  put  on  her  hat,  kissed  Erminie,  and  set 
out  on  her  return  to  Heath  Hill. 

"  You  ought  to  have  told  some  of  the  servants  to  come 
for  you,"  said  Erminie.  "  It  is  rather  far  for  you  to  go 
alone." 

Oh,  there  is  no  danger,"    said  Pet ;  "  on  the  forest  road 


there  may    be ;  but   here  on  the  heath    all  is 
Good  night."    And  Pet  started   off  at  a  brisk 


and  the  shore 
safe  enough, 
walk. 

Two  men,  crouching  behind  a  clump  of  stunted  spruce 
bushes,  were  watching  her  with  lynx  eyes,  as  her  slight,  grace- 
ful form  approached.     It  was  not  quite  dark,  but  what  the 
Scotch  call  "  the  gloaming,"  and  the  bright  draped  figure 
was  plainly  conspicuous  on  the  brown,  bare  heath. 

"  There  she  comes  at  last,"  whispered  the  younger  of  the 
two,  in  a  quick  fierce  tone,  breathing  hotly  and  quickly  while 
he  spoke;  "I  will  spring  out  as  she  passes  and  throw  this 
shawl  over  her  head,  while  you  tie  her  hands   and  feet." 

"All  right,"  said  the  other,  in  the  same  low  tone. 
"  Jupiter  1  how  she  goes  it  I  Can't  she  walk  Spanish,  though  ! 
I  tell  you,  Garnet,  she's  a  regular  stunner,  and   no  mistake." 

The  other  made  no  reply.  His  lurid,  burning  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  dark,  brilliant  face  of  Petronilla. 

All  unconscious  she  passed  on.  Scarcely  had  she  done  so 
when,  with  the  quick,  noiseless  spring  of  a  panther.  Garnet 
darted  from  behind  the  bushes,  and  flung  a  large  plaid  over 
the  head  of  Pet,  and  grasped  her  firmly  in  his  arms.  With 
equal  agility  the  other  followed  ;  and  Pet  was  securely  bound 
hand  and  foot  before  she  had  sufficiently  recovered  from  her 
surprise  to  make  the  slightest  struggle. 


'"i»*.tl 


•I  H.MI   I 


( 

t'. 


296 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


*'  Mine  1  Mine !  at  last  1  "  whispered  a  voice  she  knew  too 
well,  as  his  arms  enfolded  her  in  a  fierce  embrace.  "  Beauti- 
ful eaglet,   caged  at  last!  " 

In  vain  she  struggled — in  vain  she  strove  to  cry  out  for 
help.  Feet  and  hands  were  securely  bound  ;  the  heavy  shawl 
was  half  smothering  her,  and  her  captor's  arms  held  her 
like  a  vise. 

"  Now  for  the  cave  1  On  1  on  I  there's  no  time  to  lose  1" 
cried  Garnet,  with  fierce  impatience,  starting  forward  as 
though  he  were  carrying  an  infant  over  the  heath. 


f  i". 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


THE   outlaw's   wife. 


li 


For  some  moments  Pet  continued  to  struggle  violently,  but 
finding  all  her  efforts  vain — worse  than  vain — and  being  half- 
suffocated  for  want  of  air,  she  fell  back  in  her  captor's  arms, 
and  lay  perfectly  still  and  quiet. 

In  that  dreadful  moment,  she  lost  not  one  particle  of  her 
customary  self-possession.  She  realized  all  her  danger  and 
peril  vividly.  She  knew  she  was  completely  in  the  power  of 
her  worst  enemy,  and  beyond  all  hope  of  extricating  herself. 
Her  whole  appalling  danger  burst  upon  her  at  once  ;  and 
though  for  one  instant  her  very  heart  seemed  to  cease  its 
beating,  she  neither  fainted  nor  gave  herself  up  to  useless 
tears  or  hysterics,  according  to  the  usual  custom  of  young 
ladies,  when  in  real  or  imaginary  danger.  Not  she,  indeed  I 
Pet's  thoughts  as  she  lay  quietly  in  her  captive's  arms,  ran 
somewhat  after  the  following  fashion  : 

"  Well,  Pet,  child,  you've  went  and  put  your  foot  in  it  beau- 
tifully, haven't  you  ?  Ain't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  to  let  Roz- 
zel  Garnet  catch  you,  and  lug  you  along  like  this  ?  I  wonder 
where  they're  going  to  bring  me  to,  anyway,  and  what  they're 
going  to  do  with  me  next  ?  Oh  I  won't  there  be  weeping  and 
gnashing  of  teeth,  and  pulling  off  of  wigs  at  home  when  they 
find  I've  gone,  vanished,  evaporated,  made  myself  '  thin  air,' 
and  no  clue  to  my  whereabouts  to  be  found  ?  Phew  1  this 
Tillainous  shawl  is  fairly  smothering  me.     I  wish  I  could  slip 


THE  OUTLAW'S  WIFE. 


297 


e  knew  too 
"  Beauti- 

cry  out  for 
leavy  shawl 
5   held  her 

e  to  lose!" 
orvvard   as 


3lently,  but 

being  half- 

)tor's  arms, 

:icle  of  her 
danger  and 
le  power  of 
ng  herself, 
once  ;  and 
1  cease  its 
I  to  useless 
n  of  young 
tie,  indeed  I 
arms,  ran 

t  in  it  beau- 
,  to  let  Roz- 
I  wonder 
rhat  they're 
seeping  and 
J  when  they 
f  *  thin  air,' 
Phew  1  this 
I  could  slip 


I 


I 


it  of!  for  about  five  minutes  ;  and  the  way  I'd  yell  would  slight- 
ly astonish  Mr.  Garnet.  I  suppose  papa  will  have  flaming 
posters  stuck  up  all  around  Judestown,  in  every  color  of  the 
rainbow.  I  fancy  I'm  reading  one  of  them  :  '  Lost,  strayed, 
stolen,  or  run  off  with  some  deluded  young  man,  a  small, 
brown,  yellow  and  black  girl,  not  quite  right  in  her  head, 
wearing  a  red-and-green  silk  dress,  with  black  eyes,  a  pair  of 
gaiter  boots,  and  black  hair.  Any  person  or  persons  giving 
information  concerning  the  above  will  be  liberally  rewarded 
with  from  five  to  ten  cents,  and  possess  the  everlasting  grati- 
tude of  the  community  generally.'  That's  itl  I  wonder 
where  they're  taking  me  to  ?  We're  down  or.  the  beach  now, 
for  I  can  hear  the  waves  on  the  shore.  Good  gracious  1  If 
they  should  carry  me  off  to  sea,  the  matter  would  be  j^f^rious. 
'Pon  my  word  and  honor  1  if  I  ever  get  out  of  this  scrape,  if 
I  don't  make  Mr.  Rozzel  Game,  mind  what  he's  up  to,  then 
my  name's  not  Pet— Ur-r-r  1  I'm  strangling,  I  declare. 
Suffocation  must  be  a  pleasant  death,  if  I  may  judge  by  this 
specimen  1 " 

While  Pet   was  thus  cogitating,  Rozzel  Garnet  and   his 
companion  were  rapidly  striding  over  the  wet,  slippery  beach. 
A  being  more   perfectly  guileless  than  Pet,  in  some  ways, 
never  existed,  and  this  may  in  some  measure  account  for 
the  light  manner  in  which  she  treated  her  captivity.     Saucy, 
spirited,  daring,  full  of  exuberant  life,  fun,  freedom  and  frolic, 
she  was  ;  but,  withal,  in  some  matters  her  simplicity  was  per- 
fectly wonderful.     For  instance,  she  knew  now  she  was  a 
prisoner ;  she  fancied  she  might  be  taken  off  somewhere,  or 
held  captive  for  a  while.     But  she  had  the  most  perfect  f a  th 
in  her  own  wit,  cunning  and  courage  to  ultimately  escape. 
She    feared  no  worse  fate  ;  she  knew  of  none  ;  she  never 
even  dreamed  of  any.     She  knew  Rozzel  Garnet  pretended 
to  love  her — might  urge  her  again  to  marry  him  ;  but  that 
gave  her  not  the  slightest  uneasiness  in  the  world.     In  fact. 
Pet's  love  of  adventure  made  her  almost  like  this  scrape  she 
had  got  into.     It  would  be  something  to  talk  about  for  the 
rest   of   her  life;  it  made   her  quite  a  heroine,  this  being 
carried  off ;  it  was  really  like  something  she  had   so  ofteu 
read  of  in  novels,  or  like  a  tragedy  in  a  play. 

With  these  sentiments,  Pet  lay  quite  still,  listening  intently, 
and  wondering  what  was  to  come  next.     It  seemed  to  her 


-wmr 


' •  •  ■■  I 


298 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


they  must  have  walked  nearly  half  an  hour,  when  they  came 
to  a  dead  halt,  and  she  heard  Rozzel  Garnet  say  • 

"  Now,  Bart,  give  the  signal  quick  1  " 

A    low,  shrill,   peculiar  whistle  followed  ;  and  then   Pet 
whose  ears  would  have  run  themselves  into  points  to  hear 

pushed  aside  ;  a  heavy  sound,  as  if  of  rocks  removing;  and 
then    Garnet,  gathenng  her  tighter    in   his  hated  en.brace 
stooped    down,  and   passed    through    something   which   she 
knew  must  be  a  narrow  aperture,  and  thence,  cnrefully  guid- 
nig  hnnself  w.th  one  hnnd  while  he  held  her  with  the:^oK 
he  descended  a  short  flight  of  steps.     Then  he  paused   and 
o  the  great  relief  of  our  half-stifled  heroine,  removed  the 
thick  shawl  m  which  he  had  enveloped  her.     Pet's  first  use 
ot  her  breath  was  to  burst  out  angrily  with  : 

"  Well,  it's  a  wonder  you  took  the  blamed  thing  off  until 
you  choked  me  dead  I  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self, Mr.  Garnet,  smothermg  a  young  lady  this  way,  in  a  big 
blanket  like  that.  I  wish  you'd  let  me  go.  I  don't  want  o 
be  carried  nke  a  baby  any  longer." 

"  Not  so  fast  pretty  one,"  said  Garnet,  in  a  low  tone  of 
of  mocking  exultation.     "  Be  in  no  haste  to  quit  these  arms 
for  they  are  to  be  your  home  for  the  future." 

"Humph!  a  pretty  home  they  would  be!"  said  Pet 
contemptuously.  '•  You'll  have  to  consult  me  about  that  Mr' 
Rozzel  Garnet.  Let  me  go,  I  tell  you  I  I  want  to  ialk" 
A  body  might  as  well  let  a  bear  carry  them  as  you  !  " 

"  As  you  please,  my  pretty  lady-love  1  "  said  Garnet      "  I 
do  riot  think  you  will  escape  so  easily  thJs  time  as  you  did  the 
last  I      That  was  your  hour  of  victory  :  this  is   mine      Then 
you  said  neither  earth,  air,  fire,  nor  water  could  hold  vou 
Perhaps  stout  walls  of  rock  can  ?  "  ^     ' 

"Don't  be  too  sure,  Mr.  Garnet.  There  is  such  a  thing 
as  blowing  up  rocks,  or  an  earthquake  might  happen,  or  the 
sea  might  overflow,  or  you  and  all  your  brothers  in  villainv 
might  get  paralytic  strokes,  or  Satan  might  come  and  carrv 
oft  the  whole  of  you  bodily  to  your  future  home.  I'm  sur'e 
I  wish  he  would.  You'll  be  an  ornament  to  it  when  youcet 
there-a' burning  and  shining  light,'  in  every  sense  of  The 
wordl  A.nt  you  proud  of  yourself  to  have  carried  off  a 
little  girl  so  beautifully  ?     When  you  found  you  couldn  't  do  it 


1 


THE  OUTLAW'S  WIFE. 


299 


alone  you  got  another  to  help  you,  and  so  you  bravely  \yon 
the  battle.  Two  great,  big  men  to  carry  off  one  little  girl  I 
What  an  achievement  1  What  a  victory  I  You  ought  to  have 
a  leather  medal  and  a  service  of  tin  plate  presented  to 
each  of  you  1     Oh    my  1 "  said  Pet,  in  tones  of  withering 

irony. 

Had  it  not  been  pitch  dark  where  they  stood,  Pet  would 
have  seen  his  sallow  face  blanch  with  anger ;  but  subduing 
his  rage  in  the  comforting  thought  that  this  little  double- 
refined  essence  of  audacity  was  completely  in  his  power,  he 
smiled  an  evil  and  most  sinister  smile,  and  replied: 

"  Jet,  flash,  and  sparkle,  little  grenade  1  Dart  fire,  little 
stiletto,  but  you  can  do  no  more  1  Snarl  and  show  your 
white  teeth,  little  kitten ;  but  your  claws  are  shielded— you 
cannot  bite  now.  Expand  your  wings,  my  bright  little  hum- 
ming-bird ;  but  you  will  find  them  clipped.  Try  to  soar  to 
your  native  heaven,  my  dazzling,  glorious  bird  of  paradise  ; 
and  your  drooping  plumes  will  fall,  fluttering  and  earth-stained, 
to  the  dust." 

"  Well,  that  all  sounds  mighty  fine,  Mr.  Garnet,  and  is  a 
grand  flourish  of  rhetoric  on  your  part.  I  made  no  doubt 
but  you'll  excuse  me  if  I  don't  understand  a  single  blessed 
word  of  it.  You're  a  schoolmaster,  and,  of  course,  ought  to 
understand  what's  proper;  but  your  grand  tropes  and  figures 
of  speech  are  all  a  waste  of  powder  and  shot  when  addressed 
to  me.  Just  talk  in  plain  English,  and  don't  keep  calling  me 
names,  and  I'll  feel  greatly  obliged.  What  a  grenade  and  all 
them  other  things  are  I  haven't  the  remotest  idea ;  but  I 
expect  they're  something  dreadful  bad,  or  you  wouldn't  keep 
calling  me  them.  It's  real  impolite  in  you  to  talk  so  ;  and  I 
wonder  you  ain't  ashamed  of  yourself,  Rozzel  Garnet  1  " 

"  No,  you  don't  understand,  Miss  Lawless,"  he  said  slowly, 
and  with  the  same  evil  smile.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  in  plainer 
words  my  meaning  ?  " 

"  No,    you  needn't  bother  yourself,"    said    Pet,    shortly. 

<  The  less  you  say  to  me  the  better  I'll  like  it.     I'm  not  in 

^he  habit  of  talking  to  the  offcasts  of  society,  such  as  you  are, 

Mr.  Garnet ;  and,  like  frog-soup,  though  it  does  well  enough 

for  a  time,  one  doesn't  like  it  as  a  constant  thing." 

"  Here,  push  on  !  push  on  !  "  said  the  gruff  voice  of  Black 
Bart  behind  them.     "  No  use  standing  palavering  here  all 


300 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


ii  ' 


li: 


night.  Get  along,  Rozzy,  boy,  and  taking  tliis  little  snapping, 
turtle  along  with  you.  Up  with  the  glim,  Jack,  till  ma'm'selle 
sees  where  she's  going." 

All  this  time  they  had  been  wrapped  In  the  blackness  of 
Tartarus,  but  now  the  two  men  descended  the  stone  steps,  and 
one  of  them,  holding  up  a  dark-lantern,  let  its  rays  stream 
round.  Pet  curiously  cast  her  eyes  about  and  saw  she  was 
in  a  narrow,  rocky  passage,  with  her  head  not  more  than  an 
inch  from  the  top.  How  far  it  led  she  could  not  tell,  for  the  rays 
of  light  penetrated  but  a  few  feet,  and  beyond  that  stretched 
a  black,  yawning  chasm  that  might  have  been  the  entrance 
into  Pandemotiium  itself. 

"  Now,  in  we  goes,"  said  Black  Bart,  giving  Pet  a  sli^^ht 
push  forward.  "Go  first,  Rozzy,  lad,  and  show  little 
mustard-seed,  here,  the  way.  Jack  and  I  will  keep  in  your 
wake." 

"  Mustard-seed  and  snapping-turtle,"  muttered  Pet,  as  she 
prepared  to  follow  Garnet.  <«  Pet,  my  dear,  you  will  have  as 
many  a/iascs  before  long  as  the  most  notorious  blackleg  from 
here  to  the  Cannibal  Islands.  Well,  if  I'm  not  in  a  fix  to- 
night I     What  will  they  say  at  home  ?  " 

As  they  went  on  the  passage  grew  wider  and  broader, 
until  at  last  Pet  found  herself  in  a  spacious  rock-bound 
apartment,  well  lighted,  rudely  furnished,  and  occupied  by 
some  half-dozen  rough,  hard-looking  men  in  the  garb  of 
sailors.  They  were  lying  in  various  attitudes  about  the  floor, 
with  the  exception  of  two,  who  sat  at  a  rough  deal-table  play- 
ing cards. 

They  turned  their  eyes  carelessly  enough  as  Rozzel  Garnet 
entered ;  but  as  their  eyes  fell  upon  Pet  each  man  sprung 
to  his  feet,  and  stared  at  her  in  undisguised  wonder. 

There  she  stood,  in  the  full  glare  of  the  light ;  her  slender, 
girlish  form  drawn  up  to  its  full  hight ;  her  brilliant  silk  dress 
flashing  and  glittering  in  the  light ;  her  short,  dancing,  flash- 
ing curls  of  jet  falling  around  her  crimson  cheeks  ;  her  bright, 
undaunted  black  eyes  wide  open,  and  returning  every  stare  as 
composedly  as  though  she  were  sitting  in  her  father's  hall,  and 
these  men  were  her  servants.  Very  much  out  of  place  looked 
Pet,  in  her  rich,  sheeny  robes  and  da2^1ing  beauty,  amid  those 
roughly-ciad,  savage-looking  men,  and  in  that  dismal  under 
ground  apartment. 


(,■■    - 


THE  OUTLAW'S  WII^E. 


301 


le  snapping- 
.1  ma'm'selle 

•lackness  of 
e  steps,  and 
ays  stream 
law  she  was 
)re  than  an 
for  the  rays 
at  stretched 
le  entrance 


*et  a  slight 
show  little 
;ep  in  your 

Pet,  as  she 
.vill  have  as 
ickleg  from 
in  a  fix  to- 

d  broader, 
rock-bound 
xupied  by 
le  garb  of 
It  the  floor, 
-table  play- 


zel  Garnet 
lan  sprung 
er. 

er  slender, 
t  silk  dress 
cing,  flash- 
her  bright, 
jry  stare  as 
s  hall,  and 
ace  looked 
imid  those 
mal  under 


«  Where  is  she  ? "  asked  Rozzel  Garnet,  unheeding  their 

blank  stare  of  surprise.  ..u     ,. 

u  Who?— the  missis?"   asked  one  of  the    men,   without 

removing  his  eyes  from  Pet. 

"  Yes — of  course."  j  -d  * 

The  man  pointed  to  the  remote  end  of  the  room  ;  and  Fet, 
turning  her  eyt-s  in  that  direction  saw  a  sort  of  opening  in 
the  wall,  serving  evidently  for  a  door,  and  covered  by  a 
screen  of  thick,  dark  baize. 

Garnet  went  toward  it  and  called  : 

i'  Madame  Marguerite." 

"  Well,"  said  a  woman's  voice  from  within,  with  a  strong 

foreign  accent. 

'<  Can  I  see  you  a  moment,  on  business  i 

« Yes— enter."  And  Pet  saw  a  small,  delicate-looking 
hand  push  aside  the  screen,  and  Garnet  disappeared  within. 

-  Here,  little  nettle,  sit  down,"  said  Black  Bart,  pushing  a 
stool  tov.  ard  Pet,  gallantly,  with  his  foot.  "  How  do  you  like 
the  looks  of  this  here  place,  young  woman  ? 

"  Well  "  said  Pet,  "  I  should  say  there  was  no  danger  ot 
thieves  breaking  in  at  night ;  and  by  the  look  of  things  1  don't 
expect  they  would  find  much  for  their  pains,  if  they  did 
break  in.     There's  no  danger  of   its  blowing  down  windy 

"'^'Wdi'^no^r  reckon  there  isn't,"  said  Black  Bart  with  a 
grin,  "  seeing  it's  right  under  a  hill,  and  nothing  but  solid 

rocks  above  and  below."  nu„^r^u 

"  A  strong  foundation,"  said  Pet;  "Like  the  true  Church 

it's   built  on  a  rock.     I  should  think  it  would    be    damp, 

though,  when  the  tide  rises  and  fills  it ;  and  I  am  subject  to 

rheumatism — "  ,  ,  •  t^i  ^,.^  1 

"  No  danger,"  said  Bart.  "  I'll  risk  your  drowning.    Theie  I 

Garnet's  calling  you,     Go  in  there."       ,     ,      ,    .         __„* 
Pet  arose,    and  Garnet,   holding  back  the  baize    screen, 
motioned  her  to  enter.     She  obeyed  and  looked  curiously 

^"^"-rhe'room  was  smaller  than  the  one  she  had  left  and  better 
furnished.  The  rocky  floor  was  covered  with  India  matting, 
and  chairs,  couches,  and  tables  were  strewn  indiscriminately 
around.  A  bed  with  heavy  curtains  stood  in  one  corner, 
and  a  stand  containing  books,  writing  materials,  and  drawing 


3oa  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

utensils  stood  opposite.  Pet  gave  all  these  but  a  fleeting 
glance,  and  then  her  whole  attention  was  caught  and  occup  ed 
by  he  person  who  stood  between  them,  with  tne  hand  reS 
on  the  back  of  a  cha.r,  and  her  eyes  fixed  with  a  sort  of  stern^ 
haughty  scrutiny  on  Pet.  ■ 

It  was  a  woman  of  some  five-and-thirty  years  of  age    of 

Sill      He';r.f  h'T'-V'  f  ^°''^  '-^"^^  4ed  blaclf sitin 
dress.     Her  fire  had  evidently  once  been  verv  handsnmp 

for  It  still  bore  traces  of  former  beauty ;  but  now  it  was  thin' 

sallow,  and  faded-looking  still  morei;ded  in  con  rT  t      ith 

-he  unnaturally  large,  lustrous  black  eyes  by  which  k  was  it 

up.     Her  hair,  thick  and  black,  hung  disorde  ed  and   un 

combed  far     ver  her  shoulders,  while  jtwels  flashed    rom  the 

pendants   in  her  ears,  and  sparkled  on  the  small,  beautiful 

hands.     Something  in  that  face  moved  Pet  as  nothing  had 

ever  done   before-there  was  such  a  look  of  proud    suHcn 

despair  in  the  wild   black  eyes  ;  a  sort  of  fierce'haugh  "    ss 

m  the  dark,  v.eird  face ;  a  look  of  passionate  impatience 

hidden  anguish    undying  woe.  in  the  slumbering  depths  o 

those   gloomy    haunting  eyes,  that  Pet  wonderc^l  ^,Uo  she 

could  be,  or  what  great  sorrow  she  had  ever  endured.     There 

Weur'Jhat  if'Tl^  ''°"^  '"'  '""'-^  '^''y'  — anding 
hauteur  that  showed  she  was  queen  and  mistress  here    and 

"This  is  the   girl,   Madame   Marguerite,"  said  Garnet 
respectfully,     « I  intrust  her  to  your'care  until  the  captain 

"She  shall  be  cared  for.     That  will  do,"  said  the  woman 
waving  her  hand  until  all  its  burning   rubies  and  Wa^.nP 
diamonds  seemed  to  encircle  it  with  sparks  of  fire  ^ 

Garnet  bowed  low,  cast  a  triumphant  glance  on  Pet  as  he 
passed    and   hissed  softly  in  her  ear  :<' Mine  own-mine 

peTr'ed    "  "^  '''"  ""'  '"^^'^  ^^^  ^^'^^^^  -^  disLi> 

The  cold,  proud,  black  eyes  were  fixed  piercingly  on  Pet  • 

but  that  yoimg  lady  bore  it  as  she  had  done  manv  another 

stare,  without  flinching.  ^  another 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  woman,  with  her  strong  foreign  in- 
tonation,  pointmg  to  a  seat.  ^ 

Pet  obeyed,  saying,  as  she  did  so  i 


'-Mi 


THE  OUTLAW'S  WIFE. 


303 


«<  I  may  as  well,  I  suppose.     Am  I  expected  to  stay  here 

ill  night  ? "  .  .  .  ^ 

"  Yes,"  said  the  woman,  curtly,  "  and  many  more  nights 
after  that.  You  can  occupy  my  bed  ;  I  will  sleep  on  one  of 
these  lounge,   while  you  remain 

"Well  "said  Pet,  ••  I  wouk'    '^c   to   know  what    1    am 
b-ought  here  for  anyway.     Some  of  Rozzel  Garnet's  capers 
I  suppose,     lie  had  better  look  out ;  for  when  I  get^  free,  if 
the  gallows  don't  got  their  due  it  won't  be  my  fault." 

«'  Rozzel  (}.irnet  hail  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  ue  was  but 
acting  for  another  in  bringing  you  here." 

"  For  another  ?  "  .-^aid  Pet,  with  the  utmost  surprise  ;  "  who 
the  mischief  is  it  ? " 

"  That  you  are  not  to  know  at  present.  v\  hen  the  pro- 
per  time  comes,  that,  what  many   other  things,  will  be  re- 

^^'"  So  I'm  like  a  bundle  of  goods,  '  left  till  called  for,'  "  said 
Pet ;  "  now,  who  could  have  put  themselves  to  so  much  un- 
necessary trouble  to  have  me  carried  off,  I  want  to  know  ? 
I  thought  I  hadn't  an  enemy  in  the  world,  but  his  excel- 
lency,  the  right  worshipful  Rozzel  Garnet.  It  can't  be  Or- 
lando Toosypegs,  surely— hum-m-m.  I  do  wonder  who 
can  it  be,"  s.iid  Pet,  musingly. 

While  Pet  was  holding  converse  with  herself,  the  woman, 
Marguerite,  had  gone  out.  Pet  waited  for  her  return  until, 
in  spite  of  her  strange  situation,  her  eyes  began  to  drop 
heavily.  A  little  clock  on  a  shelf  strucl<  the  hour  of  mid- 
night, and  still  she  came  not.  Pet  was  sleepy,  awfully 
sleepy;  and,  rubbing  her  eyes  and  yawnin-  ,  she  got  up,  and 
holding  her  eyes  open  with  her  fingers,  kneeled  down  and 
said  ner  usual  night-prayers,  and  then  jump  ;d  into  bed,  and 
fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  in  which  Rozzel  Garnet,  and  Mar- 
guerite, and  the  under-ground  cave,  and  her  previous  night's 
adventure,  were  one  and  all  forgotten. 

When  Pet  awoke  she  found  herself  alone  and  the  apart- 
ment lit  up  by  a  swinging-lamp,  exactly  as  ir  had  been  the 
night  before.  She  glanced  at  the  clock  and  ^aw  the  hands 
pointed  to  half-past  ten.  A  litde  round  st  nd  had  been 
placed  close  to  her  bed,  on  which  all  the  para  )hernalia  of  a 
breakfast  for  one  was  placed.     On  a  chair  at  t  .e  foot  of  the 


'I'l'l'lMi    .Ml    mf 


"B'l    If*- 


304 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


■,5:  1 


bed  was  a  basin  and  ewer,  with  water,  combs,  brushes,  and  a 
small  looking-glass. 

Pet,  with  an  appetite  not  at  all  diminished,  sprung  out  of 
bed,  hastily  washed  her  face  and  hands,  brushed  out  her 
silken  curls,  said  her  morning-prayers,  and  then,  sitting  down 
at  the  table,  fell  to  with  a  zest  and  eagerness  that  woad 
have  horrified  Miss  Priscilla  Toosypegs.  The  coffee  was 
excellent,  the  rolls  incomparable,  the  eggs  cooked  to  a  turn, 
and  Miss  Pet  did  ample  justice  to  all. 

As  she  completed  her  meal,  the  screen  was  pushed  aside, 
and  the  woman  Marguerite  entered. 

*'  Good-morning,"  said  Pet. 

The  woman  bent  her  head  in  a  slight  acknowledgment. 

"  I  suppose  it's  daylight  outside  by  this  time  ? "  said  Pet. 

"  Yes,  it  was  daylight  five  hours  ago,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  it's  pleasant  to  know  even  that.  What  am  I  to  do 
for  the  rest  of  the  day,  I  want  to  know  ? " 

"  Whatever  you  please." 

"  A  wide  margin  ;  the  only  thing  I  would  please  to  do,  if  I 
could,  would  be  to  go  out  and  walk  home.  That,  I  suppose, 
is  against  the  rules  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  there  are  books  and  drawing  materials ;  you 
can  amuse  yourself  with  them." 

"  Thankee  ;  poor  amusement,  but  better  than  none,  I  ex- 
pect. Who  is  commander  here,  the  captain  I  heard  them 
speak  of  ?  " 

"  My  husband,"  said  the  woman,  proudly. 

"  And  where  is  he  now  ?  I  should  Hke  to  have  a  talk 
with  him,  and  have  things  straightened  out  a  little  if  possi- 
ble." 

'•  He  is  absent,  and  will  not  be  back  for  some  days." 

*•  Hum  I  this  is,  then,  the  hiding-place  of  the  smugglers 
they  make  such  a  fuss  about — eh  ?  "  said  Pet. 

"  Yes,  they  are  smugglers — worse,  perhaps,"  said  the 
woman,  sullenly. 

"  There  I  I  know  I'd  find  it ;  I  always  said  so  I  "  ex- 
claimed Pet,  exultantly.  "  Oh,  if  I  could  only  get  out  I  See 
here,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  escape  1  " 

The  woman  looked  at  her  with  her  wild,  black  eyes  for  a 
moment,  and  then  went  on  with  her  occupation  of  cleaning 
off  the  table,  as  if  she  had  not  heard  her. 


THE  OUTLAW'S  WlFEi 


305 


brushes,  and  a 


mshed  aside, 


'« Because,"  persisted  Pet,  "  I'm  of  no  use  to  any  one  here, 
and  they'll  be  anxious  about  me  up  home.  They  don't  know 
I'm  out,  you  know." 

The  woman  went  calmly  on  with  her  work  without  reply- 
ing, and  Pet,  seeing  it  was  all  a  waste  of  breath,  pleading, 
goT  up  and  went  over  to  the  shelf  where  the  books  were,  in 
search  of  something  to  read.  A  number  of  pencil-drawings 
lay  scattered  about.  Pet  took  them,  and  little  as  she 
knew  of  art,  she  saw  they  had  been  sketched  by  a  master- 
hand.  ,  , 

"Oh,   how   pretty!  "she  exclaimed ;"  was   it  you   drew 

these  ? '' 

"No;   my  husband," answered  the  woman.     "They  are 

all  fancy  sketches,  he  says." 

There  was  a   sort  of  bitterness  in  the  last  words,    un- 
noticed by  Pet,  who  was  eagerly  and  admiringly  examining 
the  drawings.     One,  in  particular,  struck  her ;  it  represented 
a  large,  shadowy  church,  buried  in  mingled  lights  and  shades, 
that  gave  a  gloomy,  spectral,  weird  appearance  to  the  scene. 
At  the  upper  end,  near  the  grand  altar,  stood  a  youth  and  a 
maiden,  while    near  a  white-robed  clergyman,  book  in  hand. 
A  dying  bird  se',;med  fluttering  over  their  heads,  and  ready 
to  drop  at  their  feet.     The  face  of  the  youth  could  not  be 
seen,  but  the  lovely,  childlike  face  of  the  girl  was  the  chief 
attraction   of  the   drawing.     Its   look   of  unutterable  love, 
mingled  with  a  strange,  nameless  terror ;  its  rare  loveliness, 
and  the  passionate  worship  in  the  eyes  upturned  to  him  who 
stood  beside  her,  sent  a  strange  thrill  to  the  very  heart  of 
Pet.     A  vague  idea  that  she  had  seen  a  face  bearing  a  shad- 
owy resemblance  to  the  beautiful  one  in  the  picture  some- 
where before,  struck  her.     The  face  was  familiar,  just  as 
those  we  see  in  dreams  are ;  but  whether  she  had  dreamed 
of  one  like  this,   or  had  really  seen  it,  she  could  not  tell. 
She  gazed  and  gazed ;  and  the  longer  she  gazed,  the  surer 
she  was  that  she  had  really  and  certainly  seen,  if  not  that 
face,  some  one  very  like  it,  before. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  if  this  is  a  fancy  sketch  ? "  said  Pet, 

holding  it  up. 

"  My  husband  says  so.     Why  ?  "  asked  the  woman,  fix- 

: 1 r.     ...tfV.   T  Ironn     ciicnioi.-Mic  crlanrp.   nn   Pet. 

mg    llCl    eyes,     wUll    d.   rtCvSlj    ,.i...j Q .     —    -    — 

"  Oh,  nothing  ;  only  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  had  seen  that 


t^  « 


If  Si 


306  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

^here't^  III'  17  '"'"'^''■^  '='"'"°'  "collect  when  or 

wnere  ,  out  L  know  I  have  seen  it. 

"  You  only  imagine  so." 

"No,  I    don't   I    never    imagine   anything.     Oh    her^'. 
another;  what  a   pretty  child  1 'why-Jhy,  L   boks  like 

It  represented  a  beautiful,  dark  little  girl,  a  mere  infant 
but  resplendently  beautiful.  mtant, 

"She  was  my  child,"  said  the  woman,  in  a  low  hard  de 
spairrng  voice,  as  she  looked  straight  before  her  ' 

And  where  is  she  ?  "  asked  Pet,  softly 
"  I  don't  know-dead,  I  expect,"  said  the  woman  in  that 

It  sni  ;e  she  died  .>  "  ^  -now  long  is 

old"  Jhin  'T!i  y^^'\''''^^  ^e  lost  her  ;  she  was  two  years 
nt  it    ,  J.''^  "°^  ^"°^  ^^hether  she  is  living  or  dead 

2tfT  '  ^''t '  ';  '"^^  ''''  "«'"^"'  passionatel^r  wl  ile  L; 
whole  frame  shook  with  the  violence  of  emotion.^ 

No  tear  fell,  no  sob  shook  her  breast,  but  words  can  nev^r 
describe  the  utter  agony  of  that  despaiHng  cry.  "''"' 

mnlt-^'^  Tr-  ^^'''  ^"  ^^^'"  ^y^^  "o^-i"  those  flashing 
mocking,  defying  eyes;  and  in  silent  sympathy  she  took  ?£ 
woman's  hand  in  her  own  little  brown  fingers    and  softly 
began  caressing  it.  ^      '  i>oiuy 

"It  was  in  London  we  lost  her~in  the  great,  vast  citv  of 
London.     I  was  out  with  her,  one  day,  and  s;erg  a  vas 

nXV  ''' '°T  °^  ^'^  '''''''  '  -'"t  over!hofding  my 
httle  Marguerite  by  the  hand,  to  see  what  wa;the  mftt7 
The  crowd   increased  ;  we  were  wedged  in,  and  couki  not' 
extricate  ourselves.     Suddenly    some  one  gave    her  a  null 
her  little  hand  relaxed    its  hold;  I  heard  her  cry  ou?-^and 
s  riekmg  madly.  I  burst  from    the  crowd   in  search  of  her 
bu   she  was  gone.     I  rushed  shrieking  through   the  streets 
until  they  arrested  me  as  a  lunatic,  and  carr  fd  n'e  off     Fo 
a  long,  long  time  after,  I  remember  nothing.     My  husband 
found  me  out  and  took  charge  of  me;' but le  Xr  heard 
of  our  child  after  that.     I  nearlv  went  mnd      T  "  !  '     f /"* 
a  time ;  but  it  has  passed.     Since  that  -day;  wl  n^vVrh^eaM 


TTTfitr'itiiffiTaiWm 


-  ♦  * -ift  *  TTr#,f»t^siji^ljft  ^.t  (|,  J 


:ollect  when  or 


•     Oh,   here's 
he   looks  like 

a  mere  infant, 

low,  hard,  de- 


oman,  in  that 
han  any  tears 

coming  over. 
How  long  is 

as  two  years 
ng  or  dead, 
ly,  while  her 

ds  can  never 

►sft  flashing, 

she  took  the 

and  softly 

vast  city  of 
eing  a  vast 

holding  my 

the  matter. 
I  could  not 

her  a  pull ; 
■y  out ;  and 
irch  of  her ; 
the  streets 
le  off.  For 
fy  husband 
Pver  heard 
'3.S  mad  for 
ever  heard 


THE  OUTLAW. 


307 


of  Rita.  I  heard  them  say  she  was  stolen  for  her  extraordi- 
nary beauty;  but,  living  or  dead,  I  feel  she  is  forever  lo.t  to 
me — forever  lost — forever  lost  I  " 

She  struck  her  bosom  with  her  hand,  and  rocked  back 
and  forward,  while  her  wild,  black  eyes  gazed  steadily  before 
her  with  that  same  rigid  look  of  changeless  despair. 

'♦  I  loved  her  better  than  anything  in  earth  or  heaven, 
except  her  father — my  heart  was  wrapped  up  in  hers — she 
was  the  dearest  part  of  myself ;  and,  since  I  lost  her,  life 
has  been  a  mockery — worse  than  a  mockery  to  me.  Girl !  " 
she  said,  looking  up  suddenly  and  fiercely,  "  never  love  1 
Try  to  escape  woman's  doom  of  loving  and  losing,  and  of 
living  on,  when  death  is  the  greatest  blessing  God  can  send 
you.  Never  love  1  Tear  your  heart  out  and  throw  it  in  the 
flames  sooner  than  love  and  live  to  know  your  golden  idol 
is  an  image  of  worthless  clay.  Girl,  remember  I  "  and  she 
sprung  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  blazing  with  a  maniac  light,  and 
grasped  Pet  so  fiercely  by  the  arm  that  she  was  forced  to  stifle 
a  cry  of  pain,  "  never  love — never  love  !  Take  a  dagger  and 
send  your  soul  to  eternity  sooner  1  " 

She  flung  Pet  from  her  with  a  violence  that  sent  her  reel- 
ing against  the  wall,  and  darted  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXH. 

THE  OUTLAW. 

"  He  knew  himself  a  villain,  but  he  deemed 
The  rest  no  better  than  the  thing  he  seemed  ; 
And  scorned  the  best  as  hypocrites,  who  hid, 
Those  deeds  the  bolder  spirit  plainly  did. 
He  knew  himself  detested,  but  he  knew 
The  hearts  that  loathed  him  crouched  and  dreaded,  too. 
Ivone,  wild  and  strange  he  stood,  alike  exempt 
From  all  affection  and  from  all  contempt." 

— Byron. 

That  first  day  of  her  imprisonment  seemed  endless  to 
Pet.  She  yawned  over  her  books,  and  dozed  over  the  draw- 
ings, and  fell  asleep,  wondering  what  they  were  doing  at 
home,  and  vvhen  they  would  come  in  search  of  her ;  and 
dreamed  she  was  creeping  through  some  hole  in  the  wall, 


308 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


II  \ 


making  her  escape,  and  awoke  to  find  herself  crawling  on 
all  fours  between  the  legs  of  the  table.  It  was  the  longest, 
dreariest  day  Pet  had  ever  known.  The  woman  Marguerite 
did  not  make  her  appearance  again,  and  Pet's  meals  were 
served  by  a  bright,  bold-eyed  lad,  whom  she  plied  with  some 
fifty  questions  or  so  in  a  breath ;  but  as  the  boy  was  a  Span- 
iard, and  did  not  speak  nor  understand  a  word  of  English, 
Miss  Lawless  did  not  gain  much  by  this.  As  there  was  no 
means  of  telling  day  from  night,  Pet  would  have  thought  a 
week  had  elapsed  but  for  the  little  clock  that  so  slowly  and 
provokingly  pointed  out  the  lagging  hours. 

"  This  being  taken  captive  and  carried  off  to  a  romantic 
dungeon  by  a  lot  of  bearded  outlaws  is  not  what  it's 
cracked  up  to  be,  after  all,"  said  Pet,  gaping  fit  to  strain  her 
jaws.  "  It's  all  very  nice  to  read  about  in  story  books,  and 
see  at  the  theater ;  but  in  real  life,  come  to  look  at  it,  it's  the 
most  horridly-slow  affair  ever  was.  Now,  when  I  used  to 
read  about  the  lovely  princess  being  carried  off  by  the  fiery 
dragon  (by  the  way,  I'd  like  to  see  a  fiery  dragon — I  never 
^/V/  see  one  yet),  I  used  to  wish  I  had  been  in  her  place  ;  but 
I  know  better  now.  She  must  have  had  a  horrid  stupid 
time  of  it  in  that  enchanted  castle,  until  that  nice  young 
man,  the  prince,  came,  and  carried  her  off.  Heigho  !  What 
a  pity  I  have  no  prince  to  come  for  f/ie/  Wonder  if  Ray 
Germaine's  gone  yet — but,  there !  I  don't  care  whether  he  is 
or  not.  He  does  not  care  two  pins  whether  he  ever  sees 
me  again  or  not.  Nobody  cares  about  me,  and  I'm  nothing 
but  a  poor,  abused,  diabolical  little  wretch.  Oh,  yaw-w-w ! 
Lor'  I  how  sleepy  I  am  1  I  do  wish  somebody  would  come 
and  talk  to  me ,  even  Rozzel  Garnet,  or  that  man  with  all 
the  black  whiskers,  who  was  impolite  enough  to  call  me 
names,  or  that  wild,  odd-looking  outlaw  queen — anybody 
would  be  better  than  none.  I'll  blue-mould — I'll  run  to 
seed — I'll  turn  to  dust  and  ashes,  if  I'm  kept  here  much 
I  know  I  will !  " 

And,  yawning  repeatedly.  Pet  pitched  her  book  impatient- 
ly across  the  room,  and,  stretching  herself  on  a  lounge,  in 
five  minutes  was  sound  asleep. 

The  clock,  striking  ten,  awoke  her.  She  rubbed  her  eyes 
and  looked  drowsily  up,  and  the  first  object  on  which  her 
eyes  rested  was  the  motionless  form  of  Rozzel  Garnet,  as 


longer 


1 


w. 


THE  0UT1.AW. 


309 


;elf  crawling  on 
vas  the  longest, 
nan  Marguerite 
et's  meals  were 
plied  with  some 
oy  was  a  Span- 
ord  of  English, 
L.S  there  was  no 
have  thought  a 
t  so  slowly  and 

T  to  a  romantic 
not  what  it's 
fit  to  strain  her 
ory  books,  and 
ik  at  it,  it's  the 
vhen  I  used  to 
off  by  the  fiery 
■agon — I  never 

1  her  place  ;  but 
L  horrid  stupid 
lat  nice  young 
Heigho!  What 
Vonder  if  Ray 

2  whether  he  is 
:r  he  ever  sees 
nd  I'm  nothing 

Oh,  yaw-w-w ! 
[y  would  come 
t  man  with  all 
:igh  to  call  me 
aeen — anybody 
d — I'll  run  to 
ept  here  much 

)ook  impatient- 
in  a  lounge,  in 

abbed  her  eyes 

on  which  her 

zzel  Garnet,  as 


he  stood  near,  with  folded  arms,  gazing  down  upon  her,  with 
his  usual  sinister  smile. 

'•  Oh  I  you're  here — are  you  ?  "  said  Pet,  composedly,  after 
her  first  prolonged  stare.  "  I  must  say,  it  shows  a  great  deal 
of  delicacy  and  politeness  on  your  part  to  enter  a  young 
lady's  sleeping-apa-tment  after  this  fashion.  What  new 
mischief  has  your  patron  saint  with  the  cloven  foot  put  you 
up  to  now  ?  " 

"  Saucy  as  ever,  little  wasp !  You  should  be  careful  how 
you  talk  now,  knowing  you  are  in  my  power." 

"  Should  I,  indeed  ?  Don't  you  think  you  see  me  afraid 
of  you,  Mr.  Garnet?  Just  fancy  me,  with  my  finger  in  my 
mouth  and  my  eyes  cast  down,  trembling  before  any  man, 
much  less  you !  Ha,  ha,  ba  1  don't  you  hope  you  may  live 
to  see  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  in  my  power  to  make  you  afraid  of  me  1  You  are 
here  a  captive,  beyond  all  hope  of  escape — mind,  beyond 
the  power  of  heaven  and  earth  to  free  you.  Say,  then, 
beautiful  dragon-fly,  radiant  little  fay,  how  are  you  to  defy 
me  ?  Your  hour  of  triumph  has  passed,  though  you  seem 
not  to  know  it.  You  have  queened  it  right  royally  long 
enough.  My  turn  has  come  at  last.  I  have  conquered  the 
conqueress,  caged  the  eaglet,  tamed  the  wild  queen  of  the 
kelpies,  won  the  most  beautiful,  enchanting,  intoxicating 
fairy  that  ever  inflamed  the  heart  or  set  on  fire  the  brain  of 
man." 

"  Yes — boast  1  "  said  Pet,  getting  up  and  composedly  be- 
ginning to  twine  her  curls  over  her  fingers.  "  But  self-praise 
is  no  recommendation.  If  by  all  those  names  you  mean  me, 
let  me  tell  you  not  to  be  too  sure  even  yet.  It's  not  right 
to  cheer  until  you  are  out  of  the  woods,  you  know,  Mr. 
Garnet;  and,  really,  you're  not  such  a  lady-killer,  after  all, 
as  you  think  yourself.  You  can't  hold  fire  without  burning 
your  fingers,  Mr.  Garnet,  as  you'll  find,  if  you  attempt  any 
nonsense  with  me.  So,  your  honor's  worship,  the  best  thing 
you  can  do  is,  to  go  off  to  your  boon  companions,  and  mind 
your  own  business  for  the  future,  and  leave  me  to  finish 
my  nap." 

"  Sorrv  to  refuse  vour  polite  request,  Miss  Lawless,"  he 
said,  with  a  sneer  ;  "  but,  really,  I  cannot  leave  you  to  soli- 
tude and  loneliness,  this  way.     As  I  have  a  number  of  things 


t"'<',<i'«n1 


310  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

to  sit  down,  I  think  I  will  just  avail  myself  of  a   friends 
privilege,  and  take  a  seat  myself  "  ^     ^  01  a   iriend  s 

sideteron  "r^^Y^'-^^^^y  the  gentleman   seated   himself  be- 
side  her  on  the    lounge.     Pet  sprung  up  with   a  rebound 

her  fet'  "7  '  ^"  of  India-rubber,  Sr  h'ad  steel  s^ingsfn 
ing  eyes.'      "^"^'^""'^^  ^'^  ^'^'^  blazing  cheeks   and  lasi" 

''  You  hateful,   disagreeable,  yellow  old  ogre  "  she  hnr^t 
ouwxth;'' keep  the  seat  to  yourself,   then,   Hou  want  • 
but  don't  dare  to  come  near  me  again  I     D^n  't  dare  I  sav  1 '' 
And  she  stamped  her  foot,  passionately,   like  the  Httle  t^eL 
pest     hat   she   was.     "  It's    dangerous    work   plav  L  iTh 
cham-lightning,  Mr.  Rozzel  Garnet ;  so  blwarned^  1^  time 
I  vow  to  Sam  I  if  I  had  a  broomstick  handy    I'd  let  Z 
know  what  It  IS  to  put  a  respectable  young  woman  in  a  rale 
You  sit  beside  me,  indeed  1     Faugh^  ther^'T  pollution Tn 
the  very  air  you  breathe  I ''  p^iiuuon  m 

He  turned  for  an  instant,  livid  with  anger  ;  but  to  lose  his 

drT^'.'.^'f  u"°  •  ^'  ^.^^^'  "°^'  ^"'^  «°  s4ing  down  the  httle 
draught  of  her  irritating  words  as  best  he  might,  he  said 

'  Ay  1  rave,  and  storm,  and  flash  fire,  my  lit  le  tornado- 
but  It  will  avail  you  nothing.  You  but  beat  the  aTr  wi?h 
your  breath,  though,  really,  f  do  not  know  as  i  fs  u  elTss 
either,  for  you  look  so  dazzhngly  beautiful  in  Ur  roused 
wrath,  my  dear  inflammation  of  the  heart,  that  you  make  me 
love  you  twice  as  much  as  ever."  ^ 

.lnn'!^°"  ^T   '"^J,^deedl"  said  Pet,  contemptuously   "I 

done  \l"Jv"'  '"'"^  u'T  ^"^y  "^  "^y  forefathers  have  ever 
done,  that  I'm  compelled  to  stand  up  here,  like  patience  or 

to  It  I     1 11  go  and  call  that  woman,   I   declare  I  will    and 
make  her  pack  you  off  with  a  flea  in  your  ear  "  ' 

-Not  so  fast,  my  pretty  one,"  said  Garnet,  with  his  usual 
Pet    '"M^d^''^''^''^'^^"^  ^^'"-^  ^"d  caught  hoM  o 

Tack  to^ttr  Tpf '^"'" u  ^"'  ^"""  "^^^y'  ^"d  "^-y  not  l.e 
back  to-night.      Ihe  men  have  all  gone,  too,  but  one  and  he 

IS  lying  under  the  table  out  there,  dead  drunk      How  now 

my  httle  flame  of  fire  ?     Does  this  damp  your  courage  any  "' 

For  the  first  trnie,  the  conviction  thafs^e  was  compfe^elv 

in  his  power  thrilled  through  the  heart  of  Pet,  makkig  t  >^ 


TnimiiMt 


THE  OUTI.AW. 


3" 


?re,"  she  burst 


for  one  moment,  almost  dizzy  with  nameless  apprehension. 
But  the  mocking,  exulting  eyes  of  his  everywhere  bent 
tauntingly  upon  her,  and  the  high  spirit  of  the  brave  girl 
flashed  indignantly  up ;  and,  fixing  her  flashing  black  eyes 
full  on  his  face,  she  answered,  boldly  : 

"  No,  it  doesn't!  Damp  my  courage,  forsooth  1  Do  you 
really  suppose  I  am  afraid  of  you,  Rozzel  Garnet  ?  of  you, 
the  most  arrant,  wliite-livered  coward  God  ever  afflicted  the 
earth  with  1  I  la  I  ha  1  why,  if  you  think  so,  you  are  a  greater 
fool  than  even  I  ever  took  you  to  be." 

His  teeth  closed  with  a  spasmodic  snap  ;  he  half  rose,  in 
his  fierce  rage,  to  his  feet,  as  he  hissed  : 

"  Girl,  take  care  I  tempt  me  not  too  far,  lest  I  make  you 
feel  what  it  is  to  taunt  me  beyond  endurance  1  " 

"  Barking  dogs  seldom  bite,  Mr.  Garnet ;  little  snarling 
curs,  never." 

*'  By  heaven,  girl,  I  will  strangle  you  if  you  do  not  stop  1 " 
he  shouted,  springing  fiercely  to  his  feet. 

She  took  one  step  back,  laid  her  hand  on  a  carving-knife 
that  had  been  on  the  table  since  dinner-time,  and  looked  up 
in  his  face  with  a  deriding  smile. 

In  spite  of  himself,  her  dauntless  spirit  and  bold  daring 
struck  him  with  admiration.  He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment, 
inwardly  wondering  that  so  brave  and  fierce  a  spirit  could 
exist  in  a  form  so  slight  and  frail,  and  then,  with  a  long 
breath,  he  sunk  back  into  his  seat. 

•'  That's  right,  Mr.  Garnet :  I  see  you  have  not  lost  all 
your  reason  yet,"  said  Pet,  quietly  ;  "  if  you  value  a  whole 
skin,  it  will  be  wise  for  you  to  keep  the  length  of  the  room 
between  us.  I  don't  threaten  much,  but  I'm  apt  to  act 
when  aroused." 

"  Miss  Lawless,  forgive  my  hasty  temper.  I  did  not  come 
to  threaten  you,  to-night,  but  to  set  you  at  liberty,"  said 
Garnet,  looking  penitent. 

"  Humph  1  set  me  at  liberty  1  I  have  my  doubts  about 
that,"  said  Pet,  transfixing  him  with  a  long,  unwinking  stare. 

"  Nevertheless,  it  is  true.  To-night  they  are  all  gone — 
we  are  all  alone ;  say  but  the  word,  and  in  ten  minutes  you 
will  be  as  free  as  the  winds  of  heaven." 

*'  Worse  and  worse  i  Mr.  Garnet,  just  look  me  in  the  eye, 
will  you,  and  see  if  you  can  discover  any  small  mill-stones 


T't  nr 


312 


THK  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


(f  ^ 


them?     Do  you  really  think   I'm  green  enough  to  believe 
you,  now  ?  " 

"  Miss  Lawless,  I  swear  to  you  I  speak  the  truth.  In 
ten  minutes  you  may  leave  this,  free  and  unfettered,  if  vou 
will."  ^ 

"  Well,  I  declare  I  Just  let  me  catch  my  breath  after 
that,  will  you  ?  Mr.  Garnet,  I  have  heard  of  Satan  turning 
saint,  but  I  never  experienced  it  before.  So  you'll  set  me 
free,  will  you  ?  Well,  I'm  sure  I  feel  dreadfully  obliged  to 
you,  though  I  don't  know  as  I  need  to,  since  but  only  for 
you  I  wouldn't  be  here  at  all.  I'm  quite  willing  to  go, 
though,  and  am  ready  to  start  at  any  moment." 

"  Wait  one  instant.  Miss  Petronilla.  I  will  set  you  free, 
but  on  one  condition." 

"Ah  I  I  thought  so  I  I  was  just  thinking  so,  all  along  ! 
And  what  might  that  condition  be,  if  a  body  may  ask  ? "  in- 
quired Pet. 

"  That  you  become  my  ^  -ife  1 " 

"  Phew-w-w  !  Great  guns  and  little  ones  !  bombshells  and 
hurricanes  I  Fire,  murder,  and  perdition  generally  1  You.- 
wife  I  Oh,  ye  gods  and  little  fishes  I  Hold  me,  somebody,  or 
I'll  go  into  the  high-strikes." 

"  Girl,  do  you  mock  me  ?  "  passionately  exclaimed  Garnet, 
springing  to  his  feet. 

"  Mr.  Garnet,  my  £^ear  sir,  take  things  easy.  It's  the 
worst  thing  in  the  world,  for  the  constitution  and  by-laws, 
flaring  up  in  this  manner.  It  might  produce  a  rush  of  brains 
to  the  head,  that  would  be  the  death  of  you,  if  from  nothing 
but  the  very  novelty  of  having  them  there.  'Sh — sh  I  now  ;  I 
see  you  are  going  to  burst  out  with  something  naughty ;  but 
don't— you  really  mus'n't  speak  of  your  kind  friend  and 
patron  with  the  tail  and  horns,  to  ears  polite.  Mock  you  ! 
St.  Judas  Iscariot  forbid  I  I  trust  I  have  too  much  respect 
for  your  high  and  mighty  majesty,  to  do  anything  so  impolite. 
Sit  down,  Mr.  Garnet,  and  make  your  unhappy  soul  as 
miserable  as  circumstances  will  allow.  No,  now  that  I've 
eased  my  mind,  I'd  rather  not  get  married  just  at  present, 
thank  you.  I  intend  to  take  the  black  veil  some  of  these 
long-come-shorts,  if  I  may  be  allowed  so  strong  an  expression, 
and  second-hand  nuns  are  not  so  nice  as  they  might  be.  No, 
Mr.  Garnet,  I'm  exceedingly  obliged  for  your  very  flattering 


igh  to  believe 

:he   truth.     In 
fettered,  if  you 

y  breath  after 
Satan  turning 
you'll  set  me 
lly  obliged  to 
!  but  only  for 
willing  to  go, 

1  set  you  free, 

so,    all  along  ! 
nay  ask  ?  "  in- 


jmbshells  and 

nerally  I  Your 

somebody,  or 

aimed  Garnet, 

asy.  It's  the 
1  and  by-laws, 
rush  of  brains 

from  nothing 

— sh  1  now  ;  I 

naughty ;  but 

d  friend   and 

Mock  you ! 

much  respect 
ig  so  impolite, 
appy  soul  as 
now  that  I've 
st  at  present, 
lome  of  these 
an  expression, 
light  be.  No, 
very  flattering 


THE  OUTLAW. 


313 


jffer ;  but  I  really  must  decline  the   high  honor   of  sharing 
yo\xv  hand,  heart,  and  tooth  brush,"  said  Pet,  courtesying. 

",And  by  all  the  fiends  in  flames,  minion,  you  shall  not 
decline  it  1  "  shouted  Garnet,  maddened  by  her  indescribably 
taunting  tone.  •'  By  the  heaven  above  us  you  shall  either 
be  my  wife  or — " 

"  Well,"  said  Pet,  sitting  down  at  the  table,  resting  her 
elbows  upon  it,  dropping  her  chin  in  her  hands,  and  staring 
at  him  as  only  she  could  stare  ;  "  what  ?  "  Why  don't  you  go 
on  ?  I  never  like  to  have  a  burst  of  eloquence  like  that 
snapped  short  off  in  the  middle  like  the  stem  of  a  pipe  ;  it 
spoils  the  effect  1  " 

"  Then,  mad  girl,  you  shall  either  be  iny  wife,  or  share  a 
worse  fate." 

"Well,  Mr.  Garnet,  I  don't  like  to  contiadict  you;  but  if 
there  can  be  a  worse  fate  than  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
you,  I'd  like  to  know  it — that's  all,'' 

"  Then  you  will  not  consent  1  -  he  said,  glaring  on  her 
like  a  tiger. 

"  Mr.  Garnet,  for  goodness'  sake  don't  make  such  an  old 
goose  of  yourself,  asking  silly  qu&itioiis  1  "  said  Pet,  yawn- 
ing. "  I  wish  you  would  go  1  I'm  sleepy,  and  you  look  just 
now  so  much  like  a  shanghai  rooscer  with  the  jaundice,  that 
you'll  give  me  the  nightmare  if  you  don't  clear  out.  Mr. 
Garnet,  I  don't  want  to  be  personal,  but  even  the  nicest 
young  men  get  tiresome  after  a  \nhile." 

"  Pet'-onilla  Lawless,  take  care  i     Have  you  no  fear  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  can't  say  that  I  have  ;  at  least,  I  don't  stand 
very  much  in  awe  of  you,  you  kr.ow.  I  expect  I  ought  to, 
but  I  don't.     It's  not  my  fault,  foif  I  can't  help  it." 

"Then,  since  fair  means  will  not  do,  something  else 
must  1  "  exclaimed  Garnet,  making  a  spring  toward  her, 
while  his  eyes  were  blazing  with  a  terrible  light.  But  Pet 
was  as  quick  as  himself  and  seizing  her  formidable  weapon 
she  darted  back,  and  flourished  it  triumphantly,  exclainiing  : 

"  Now  for  a  game  of  hide-and-go-seek.  Catch  me  if  you 
can,  Mr.  Garnet;  but  if  y  have  any  consideration  for 
this  clean  floor,  keep  a  respecu'ul  distance.  Blood- stains  are 
not  the  easiest  removed  in  the  world,  especially  such  bad 
blood  as  yours  ;  and  this  long  knife  and  a  willing  hand  can 
make  an  ugly  wound." 


* 


■.» 


L  ^^ut    *j  m    1 1 .(»  « 


I 


314  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

She  had  him  at  bay  again.  There  was  a  fierce,  red,  dan- 
gerous  hght  in  her  flaming  eyes,  now;  and  a  look  of  deep 
steady  determination  in  the  dark,  wild  little  face.  Ro/zel 
Garnet  perceptibly  cooled  down  for  a  moment ;  but  then  as 
If  maddened  by  her  taunting,  deriding  smile,  he  bounded 
toward  he.  with  the  fearful  spring  of  a  wild  beast,  and  had 
her  m  his  arms  before  she  could  elude  his  grasp. 

But  the  bright-winged  little  wasp  had  its  stini^  yet  Up 
flew  the  blue,  glittering  knife,  down  it  descended  with  all 
the  force  of  her  small  arm  ;  but  her  aim  was  not  sure,  and  it 
lodged  in  his  shoulder. 

With  an  awful  oath,  he  seized  her  hands  in  his  vise-like 
grip,  and  with  his  other  pulled  out  the  knife.  The  wound 
was  not  deep,  yet  the  blood  spurted  up  as  he  pulled  it  out,  in 
his  very  face.  *^  r  <■, 

The  sight  seemed  to  rouse  him  to  madness ;  and  Pet 
writhed  with  pain  in  hi^  fierce  grasp.  She  felt  herself  faint- 
mg.  A  dreadful  weakness  was  stealing  through  her  frame  • 
when  as  if  sent  by  Heaven,  a  quick,  heavy  step  was  heard 
witnout,  and  then  a  commanding  voice  calling  : 

"  Hallo,  Garnet  I  where  are  you  ?  " 

With  a  fierce  imprecation  of  rage,  the  baffled  villain  hurled 
the  nearly  swooning  girl  from  him,  and  turned  to  leave  the 
room,  hissing  in  her  ear  : 

"Foiled  again!  But  you  are  still  in  my  power.  Bv 
Heaven  and  all  its  hosts,  I  will  yet  have  my  revenge  1  " 

Pet  dropped  into  a  seat,  and,  feeling  sick  and  giddy, 
bowed  her  head  on  her  hands.  Never  in  her  life  before  hid 
she  fully  realized  her  own  weakness.  What  would  all  her 
boasted  strength  have  availed  her  but  for  that  heavenlv  in- 
terposition  ?  A  moment  ago,  and  she  was  as  a  child  in  the 
|;rasp  of  a  giant.     What  an  escape  she  had  had  I  How  she 

saved  her"        ^'^'''^'  ^^'  ^'^°''''''''  '^  '"^^'^^  ^^^^^  ^een,  who  had 

Pet's  emotions,  no  matter  of  what  nature,  never  lasted 
long,  len  minutes  now  sufficed  to  make  "  Richard  himself 
again  ;  and  with  a  short  but  fervent  prayer  of  thanksgivino- 
shesat  up  drew  a  long  breath  of  unspeakable  relief  and 
began  looking  ruefully  at  her  wrists,  all  black  and  blue  from 
his  iron  pressure. 

"  Natural  bracelets  1  "  said  Pet,  with  a  slight  grimace  of 


w. 

lerce,  red,  dan- 
1  look  of  deep, 
i  face.  Ro;jzel 
t ;  but  then,  as 
e,  he  bounded 
jeast,  and  had 
isp. 

iting  yet.  Up 
ended  with  all 
lot  sure,  and  it 

n  his  vise-like 

The  wound 

lulled  it  out,  in 

less  ;  and  Pet 
t  herself  faint- 
gh  her  frame  ; 
ep  was  heard 


1  villain  hurled 
d  to  leave  the 


THE  OUTI.AW. 


315 


r   power. 


By 

venge  I 

k  and  giddy, 
ife  before  had 
would  all  her 
heavenly  in- 
i  child  in  the 
id  1  How  she 
)een,  who  had 

never  lasted 
:hard  himself 
thanksgiving, 
e  relief,  and 
nd  blue  from 

It  grimace  of 


pain.  "  Jet  and  azure.  I  can't  say  1  app-ove  <  i  such  /io- 
leiiL  love-making;  it's  unpleasant  and  '  x'  os  one — r  '.lerl 
However,  'the  course  of  true  love  nev  d  run  sn  )th,' 
accoiiling  to  that  nice  man,  Mr.  Shakc.^.care  ;  thou-h  I 
hope  it  isn't  always  as  rough  as  the  severe  course  I  under- 
went just  now.  Good  gracious  1  What  a  tiger  I  have 
raised  in  that  quondam  tutor  of  mine  1  Pretty  instructor  he 
was  for  youth,  to  be  sure  I  But  lo  1  tlie  curtain  rises  I  What 
is  to  l)e  the  next  scene,  I  wonder  ?  " 

As  she  spoke,  the  curtain  was  pushed  aside,  and  a  new 
actor  appeared.  He  walked  over  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room,  and  leaning  his  elbow  on  a  sort  of  mantel,  gazed  with 
a  look  of  careless  curiosity  on  Pet. 

From  the  moment  that  young  lady  laid  her  black  eyes  upon 
him,  she  gave  a  violent  start,  and  looked  at  him  in  utter 
amaze.  For,  save  the  disparity  in  their  years,  and  a  certain 
devil-may-care  recklessness  that  this  man  had,  she  saw  be- 
fore her  the  living  image  of  Ray  Germaine  I 

The  new-comer  was  a  man  apparently  about  forty  years  of 
age,  with  the  bold,  handsome  features,  the  flashing  black 
eyes,  and  raven  hair  of  Ray  Germaine.  His  face  was 
bronzed  by  sun  and  wind  many  shades  darker  than  that  of 
his  young  prototype ;  and  in  his  coarse  sailor's  garb  he  looked 
the  very  beau  ideal  of  a  bold,  reckless  buccaneer.  And  yet, 
withal,  he  bore  about  him  the  same  air  of  refinement  Pet  had 
noticed  in  the  woman  Marguerite,  as  if  both  had  originally 
belonged  to  a  far  different  grade  of  society  than  the  branded 
outlaws  to  whom  they  now  were  joined. 

But  that  likeness — that  wonderful  resemblance  to  Ray 
Germaine — it  completely  upset  Miss  Lawless'  nonchalance, 
as  nothing  in  the  world  had  ever  done  before.  There  she 
sat  and  stared,  unable  to  remove  her  eyes  from  the  dark, 
browned,  handsome  face  that  was  turned  toward  her  with  a 
look  half  careless,  half  admiring,  and  wholly  amused. 

The  man  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

*•  You  are  the  young  lady  they  brought  here  last  night,  I 
presume  ?  "  he  said,  watching  her  curiously. 

His  voice,  too,  was  like  Ray's,  and  bespoke  him,  even  if 
nothing  else  had  done  so,  above  his  calling — being  those 
low,  modulated  tones  that  can  only  be  educated  into  a  man. 

Pet  did  not  reply.     She  did  not  hear  him  ;  in  fact,  being 


f* 


•  •»  I  K.-t*-* 


316 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


Still  lost  in  digesting  her  surprise  at  this  astounding  reseno- 
blance.  He  watched  her  for  a  moment  as  if  waiting  for  an 
answer,  and  then  a  smile  broke  over  his  face.  Pushing  back 
his  thick,  clustering,  raven  hair,  he  said : 

'•  Yes,  look  at  me  well,  young  lady.  I  presume  you  never 
saw  an  outlaw  with  a  price  upon  his  head  before.  Is  it  to 
curiosity  alone,  or  is  it  to  some  concealed  deformity,  that  I 
am  indebted  for  that  piercing  scrutmy  ?  " 

Pet  was  aroused  now,  and  reddened  slightly  at  his  words 
and  look.  Then  her  old  impudence  came  back,  and  she 
answered  quietly : 

'•  No,  you're  not  the  only  outlaw  with  a  price  upon  his 
head  I  have  ever  seen.  I  have  just  had  the  honor  of  hold- 
ing an  interview  with  one  ;  though,  really,  I  don't  think  his 
head  is  worth  a  price  above  ten  cents,  if  that.  I  suppose  I 
have  the  sublime  happiness  of  beholding  his  mightiness,  the 
commander-in-chief  of  all  the  smugglers?" 

"  Even  so  1  I  have  returned,  you  perceive,  sooner  than 
was  expected ;  in  fact,  solely  upon  your  account.  I  heard 
you  were  here,  and  came  to  see  you." 

''  Indeed  !  Well,  I  hope  you  like  me  ?  "  said  Pet,  pertly. 

"Most  decidedly,"  said  the  outlaw,  passing  his  hand 
caressingly  over  his  whiskers  ;  "  so  much,  in  fact,  that  if  I 
were  not  a  married  man  I  should  be  tempted  to  fall  deplor- 
ably in  love  with  you  on  the  spot." 

"  Well,  you'll  greatly  oblige  me  by  doing  nothing  of  the 
sort,"  said  Pet.  "  I  have  had  enough  of  love  to  last  me  for 
one  while.  Love's  not  the  pleasantest  thing  in  the  world, 
judging  by  what  I've  seen  of  the  article  ;  and  with  the 
blessing  of  Providence,  I'm  going  to  have  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  it.  May  I  ask  the  name  of  the  gentleman  whose 
prisoner  I  have  the  unspeakable  happiness  of  being? " 

"  Certainly.  I  am  called,  for  want  of  a  better.  Captain 
Reginald." 

"  Captain  Reg'     "i  what  ?      That's  not  a  whole  name." 

His  brow  darkened  for  a  moment  at  some  passing  thought, 
then  he  replied : 

'<  Never  mind  ;  it  serves  the  purpose,  and  it's  the  only  one 
I  believe  I  ever  had  a  right  to.  I  am  afraid  you  find  the 
solitude  here  rather  irksome — do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  Captain  Reginald,  to  be  candid  with  you,  it's  not 


THE  OUTLAW. 


317 


to  say  a  place  where  a  body  would  like  to  spend  their  lives. 
There's  no  danger  of  one's  growing  dissipated  here,  or  any- 
thing  that  way,  you  know— which  is,  of  course,  an  advantage. 
And  now,  might  I  ask  who  the  gentleman  is  who  has  put 
himself  to  the  very  '  nnecessary  trouble  of  having  me  earned 
off  ?     All  the  rest  i  com  to  be  dumb  on  the  subject,  from  some 

cause."  ,  11. 

"  I  fear  I  will  have  to  be  dumb,  too,  my  dear  young  lady; 

the  gentleman  who   has  shown  his  good  taste  by  falling  in 

love  with  you  does  not  wish  to  be  known  at  present.     Can 

you  not  guess  yourself  ? "  ,     ,^         1  /-.        » 

"  Haven't  the  remotest  idea,  unless  it  be  Rozzel  Garnet,  or 

Orlando  Toosypegs  ? "  ,         u  *. 

"  No— neither  1  Garnet,  of  course,  brought  you  here,  but 
he  was  paid  to  do  it  by  another— we  outlaws  do  anything, 
from  murder  down,  for  money.  As  for  Toosypegs,  or  what- 
ever the  name  may  be,  I  haven't  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
him ;  but  I  can  assure  you  it  is  not  he." 

«<  Well,  then,  I  give  it  up.  I  never  was  good  at  guessing, 
so  I'll  not  bother  my  brain  about  it.  Is  it  high  treason  to 
ask  how  long  I  am  to  be  cooped  up  here  in  this  underground 

hole?" 

"  Perhaps  a  fortnight,  perhaps  longer.' 

"  Vipers  and  rattlesnakes  1— two  whole  blessed  weeks  I— 
whew  !  Well,  Mr.  Captain,  aU  I  have  to  say  is  that  I'll  be 
a  melancholy  case  of  '  accidental  death  '  before  half  the  time, 
and  then  I  wish  your  patron,  whoever  he  may  be,  joy  of  his 

bargain." 

"  We  will  hope  for  better  things,  my  dear  young  lady.^  By 
the  way,  I  have  not  heard  your  name  yet— what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Pet  Lawless— better  known  to  her  unhappy  friends  as 
'  Imp,  Elf,  Firefly,  Nettle,  Pepperpod,'  and  many  other 
equally  proper,  appropriate  and  suggestive  names.  Queen 
regent  and  mistress  imperial  to  all  the  witches  and  warlocks 
that  ever  rode  on  broomsticks,'  and  leaves  a  large  and  dis- 
agreeable circle  of  friends  to  mourn  her  untimely  loss.  J?e- 
quitscat  in  pacey 

All  this  Pet  brought  out  at  a  breath,  and  so  rapidly  that 
the  smuggler  captain  looked  completely  bewildered. 

"  Lawless  1  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  did  not  think— do  you 
know  Judge  Lawless  of  Heath  Hill  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 


Ill 


% 


""l^lJlciforrnCTx 


•SmjLMJUm... 


318 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


t': 


I  '  ;■. 


i.f 


«'  Slightly  acquainted.  They  say  I'm  -a  daughter  of  his," 
said  Pet,  composedly. 

"  His  daughter  ?     Young  lady,  are  you  jesting  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  may  be — quite  unintentional  on  my  part,  though  ; 
if  it  sounds  funny,  you're  perfectly  welcome  to  laugh  at  it  till 
you're  black  in  the  face.     What  was  it  ?  " 

"You  Judge  Lawless's  daughter?"  said  the  astonished 
captain. 

"  Nothing  is  certain  in  this  uncertain  world,  Captain  Regi- 
nald. I've  always  labored  under  that  impression  ;  if  you 
know  anything  to  the  contrary,  I  am  quite  willing  to  be  con- 
vinced." 

"  Young  lady,  I  wish  you  would  be  serious  for  one  mo- 
ment," said  the  smuggler,  knitting  his  dark  brows.  "If  you 
are  his  daughter,  there  has  been  a  terrible  mistake  here. 
Did  not  Rozzel  Garnet  live  at  Heath  Hill  for  some  years  as 
the  tutor  of  Miss  Lawless  }  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  he  was  sent  about  his  business  for  wishing 
to  teach  her  some  things  not  laid  down  in  the  books." 

"  Then  he  would  know  you  at  once.  Oh  I  it's  impossible 
you  can  be  Miss  Lawless." 

"  Very  well,  if  it  affords  you  any  consolation  to  think  so, 
you  are  perfectly  welcome  to  your  own  opinion.  Who  am  I 
then  ?  " 

"  You  were  mistaken  for,  or  rather  you  ought  to  be,  a 
young  lady,  a  celebrated  beauty  who  lives  in  a  cottage 
somewhere  on  the  heath." 

"  What  1     Erminie  ?  " 

"  I  really  do  not  know  the  name.  Is  it  possible  you  are 
not  the  one  ?  " 

"  Well  no,  I  rather  think  not.  Though  I  may  not  be  Pet 
Lawless  ;  and  as  you  say  I'm  not,  I  won't  dispute  it — but  I 
most  decidedly  am  not  Erminie  Germaine." 

"  Erminie  who  ?  "  cried  the  outlaw,  with  a  viol'  -t  start. 

"Germaine.     Perhaps  you  object  to  that,  too." 

"  Pardon  me  ;  the  name  is — "  He  paused  and  shaded  his 
fine  eyes  for  a  moment  with  his  hand,  then  looking  up,  he 
added  :  "  She  was  the  one  who  was  to  be  brought  here  ;  if  you 
are  really  Miss  Lawless,  then  there  has  been  a  tremendous 
mistake." 

"  Humph  I   it   seems  to  me   to  have  been  a  mistake  all 


-if 


'■i      * 


,,^V^^ipiViAf^m,im^a^^*<M^ltMX%m»U^^ 


THE  OUTI.AW. 


319 


;;hter  of  his," 


3  • 


)art,  though  ; 
lugh  at  it  till 

e  astonished 

!aptain  Regi- 
>ion  ;  if  you 
ig  to  be  con- 

for  one  mo- 
i^s.  "  If  you 
listake  here. 
)me  years  as 

i  for  wishing 

ooks." 

s  impossible 


through.  I  shouldn't  wonder  the  least  if  it  turns  out  to  be 
some  of  Master  Garnet's  handiwork.  So  they  wanted  to 
carry  off  Erminie  ?  Now,  I'm  real  glad  I  was  taken,  if  it 
had  saved  Minnie.  It  appears  to  have  been  a  pretty  piece 
of  business,  from  beginning  to  end." 

"  I  shall  put  an  end  to  this  mystery,"  said  the  captain, 
starting  up  and  going  to  the  door.  "  Marguerite,"  he  said, 
lifting  the  screen,  "  send  Rozzel  Garnet  here." 

"  He  has  gone,"  replied  the  voice  of  the  woman.  "  He 
went  away  the  moment  you  entered  the  room." 

"  Soldf"  cried  Pet,  jumping  up,  and  whirling  round  like 
a  top  in  her  delight.  *'  He  has  taken  you  all  in— made 
April-fools  of  every  mother's  son  of  you  1  Carried  off  me, 
Pet  Lawless,  for  Erminie  Germaine  I  He  knew  he  would  be 
discovered,  and  now  he  has  fled ;  and  when  you  see  last 
night's  wind  again,  you  will  see  him.  Oh  1  I  declare  if  it's 
not  the  best  joke  I  have  heard  this  month  of  Sundays  1  " 

And  overcome  by  the  (to  her)  irresistibly  ludicrous  dis- 
covery, of  how  the  smugglers  had  been  "  sold  "  by  one  of 
themselves.  Pet  fell  back,  laughing  uproariously. 


Pi 


to  think  so. 
Who  am  I 

jht  to  be,  a 
1  a   cottage 


ble  you  are 

Y  not  be  Pet 
jte  it—but  I 

'  -♦:  start. 

1  shaded  his 

)king  up,  he 

here  ;  if  you 

tremendous 

mistake  all 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


HOME    FROM    SEA. 


"  The  dark-blue  jacket  that  enfolds  the  sailor's  manly  breast 
Bears  more  of  real  honor  than  the  star  and  ermine  vest ; 
The  tithe  of  folly  in  his  head  may  wake  the  landsman's  mirth, 
But  Nature  proudly  owns  him  as  her  child  of  sterling  worth." 

— Eliza  Cook. 

"  Clear  the  track  I  off  we  go  I  whip  up  old  lazybones 
there,  and  don't  let  him  crawl  on  at  that  snail's  pace  i 
That's  more  like  ;  now  for  it,  at  live  knots  an  hour  1  It's 
pleasant  to  see  the  old  familiar  faces  again,  after  knocking 
about  in  strange  ports  for  half  a  dozen  years — don't  you 
think  so,  messmate  ?  "  and  the  speaker,  a  dashing,  hand- 
some, good-humored-looking  young  fellow,  with  the  unmis- 
takable air  of  a  sailor  about  him,  gave  his  fellow-passenger, 
an   elderly,    cross-looking   old   gentleman,  who    sat    beside 


*-i 


^"Wir-w-pUT 


320 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


V 

> 


him  on  the  roof  of  the  stage-coach,  a  confidential  dig  with 
his    elbow,  that  nearly  pushed   him,  head-first,  out   of   his 

seat. 

"  Lord  bless  my  soul !  young  man,  there's  no  necessity  for 
breaking  a  man's  ribs  about  it— is  there?"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  snappishly.  "  I  dare  say,  it's  all  very  nice,  but 
you  needn't  dislocate  your  neighbor's  bones  about  it.  Do 
you  belong  to  this  place?  "  asked  the  old  man,  after  a  short 
pause,  during  which  his  companion  had  politely  apologized 
for  the  unnecessary  force  of  the  blow  in  the  ribs. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  with  emphasis,  "  that  I 
do  1  and  in  all  my  rambles  round  the  world,  I  never  saw  a 
place  I  liked  better  !  No  place  like  home,  you  know.  Hur- 
rah 1  for  good  old  Judestown  1  " 

"  I  wonder  you  go  to  sea,  then,"  said  the  old  man,  crossly  ; 
"  you're  a  fool  to  do  it,  getting  drowned  fifty  times  a  day. 
I  warrant  you,  you  are  always  on  the  spree  whenever  you 
get  on  shore,  like  the  rest  of  them,  spending  all  your  money 
instead  of  putting  it  in  the  savings  bank,  as  you  ought  to  do, 
as  a  provision  for  your  old  age." 

"  Me  get  on  the  spree  ? "  said  the  sailor,  drawing  himself 
up  ;  "  no,  sir-ee.  All  my  money  goes  to  provide  bread  and 
molasses  for  my  wife  and  family." 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul  and  body  1 "  exclaimed  the  old 
gentleman,  surveying  his  young  companion  through  his 
spectacles  in  utter  surprise,  "  you're  surely  not  married  yet, 
youngster." 

"  Yes,  I  regret  to  say  I  am,"  said  the  youngster  in  question 
in  a  passive  tone,  "  and  got  a  large  family  with  large  ap- 
petites  to  support.  It's  melancholy  to  reflect  upon,  but  it's 
true.  My  wife  keeps  a  billiard-saloon,  and  the  children  keep 
apple-stands  at  the  corner  of  the  streets,  exc  pt  my  oldest 
daughter,  and  she's  at  service.  Fine  family,  sir  !  Halloa  1 
here  we  are,  at  the  Judestown  House,  and  there's  my  old 
friend,  Mrs.  Gudge." 

«'  Humph  1 "  grunted  the  old  gentleman,  doubtfully ; 
"  where  are  you  from  last,  young  man  ?  " 

"  Liverpool— ship  '  Sea  Nymph  ;'  master,   Burleigh  ;  first 
mate,   Randolph  Lawless,   Esq.,  late  of  Heath  Hill.     Had 
some  distinguished  passengers  out 
young  man,  tightening  his  belt. 


;4.u 

Willi 


US,    LUU, 


.:  J 


»>.»>.ii.>»*»»Mti«ii.w»  i,iii«M<*HW*»>^i|W|||||il»i>ai#>r,. 


HOME  FROM  SEA. 


321 


ential  dig  with 
at,  out    of    his 

0  necessity  for 
'  said  the  old 

very  nice,  but 
about  it.     Do 

1,  after  a  short 

;ely  apologized 

bs. 

Dhasis,  "  that  I 
I  never  saw  a 

i  know.     Hur- 

1  man,  crossly ; 
;y  times  a  day. 
;  whenever  you 
all  your  money 
Du  ought  to  do, 

rawing  himself 
vide  bread  and 

limed  the  old 
n  through  his 
ot  married  yet, 

ster  in  question 
■  with  large  ap- 
t  upon,  but  it's 
e  children  keep 
c  pt  my  oldest 
,  sir  1  Halloa  ! 
there's  my  old 

in,    doubtfully ; 

Burleigh ;  first 
ith  Hill.     Had 


!.«_     M 


said  the 


**  Humph  !  "  again  grunted  the  old  man.  "  Who  were 
they,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  y  >u  may  ask,  and  I  have  great  pleasure  in 
answering,  the  Earl  and  Countess  De  Courcy,  and  their 
daughter,  Lady  Rita — perhaps  you're  acquainted  with  them 
already,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  wicked  look  in  his 
knowing  eyes. 

"No,  sir,  I'm  not,"  snapped  the  old  man,  "and,  what's 
more,  I  don't  want  to  be,  either,  whether  you  believe  it  or 
not." 

"  Well,  it's  their  loss  then  ;  that's  all  I  have  to  say  about 
it.  Here  we  are  at  anchor,  at  last.  Halloa,  Mrs.  Gudge ! 
don't  you  know  me  ?  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  springing 
lightly  from  his  lofty  perch  and  alighting  like  a  cat  on  his 
feet. 

"  Why,  Master  Ranty  I  is  this  yourself  ? "  cried  Mrs. 
Gudge,  clasping  her  fat  hands  and  going  off  into  a  transport 
of  delight,  wonderful  to  behold.  "  Dearie  me  1  how  glad  I 
am  1  how  tall  you  are,  and  how  brown,  and  handsomer  than 
ever,  I  declare  I  " 

Our  old  friend,  Ranty,  laughed,  and  dashed  back  his  sun- 
browned  locks  off  his  happy,  thoughtless  face,  as  he  an- 
swered : 

"  I  believe  you,  Mrs.  Gudge ;  so  handsome,  in  fact,  that 
they  wanted  to  take  away  the  Apollo  Belvidere — a  gentle- 
man you  are  not  acquainted  with,  Mrs.  Gudge — and  put  me 
in  his  place.  My  modesty,  of  which  I  have  at  least  the  full 
of  a  tar-bucket,  would  not  permit  me  to  listen  to  such  a  pro- 
posal a  moment.  And  now,  my  dear  madam,  how  are  all 
my  friends  at  Heath  Hill  and  Old  Barrens  .?  " 

"  First-rate  1  "  replied  Mrs.  Gudge ;  "the  judge  was  here, 
not  ten  minutes  ago,  with  that  big,  rough  fellow,  with  all  the 
hair  about  his  face  ;  Black  Bart  they  call  him." 

"  One  of  those  notorious  smugglers  1  whew  I  I  hope  my 
excellent  father  is  not  taking  to  contraband  courses  in  his 
latter  days.  What,  in  the  name  of  Amphitrite,  could  he 
want  of  Black  Bart  ?  " 

"Well,  he  said  he  wanted  information  about  the  smug- 
glers, and  he  sent  my  old  man  to  look  for  Bart." 

"  Hum.ph !  Set  a  fox  tn  catch  a  fox  !  I  wonder  how  he 
succeeded.     Seen  our  Pet,  lately  ? " 


l^UtWt-Wm — rcTT 


322 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


JM 


li 


"  No,  not  since  one  day  she  dressed  herself  in  my  Bobby's 
clothes,  and  drove  young  Mr.  Germaine  and  Miss  Erminie 
over  to  the  cottage,"  said  Mrs.  Gudge,  laughing. 

"  Dressed  herself  in  Bob's  clothes  1  what  the  dickens  did 
she  do  that  for  ?  " 

"  For  fun,  she  said  ;  none  of  us  knev/  them  that  day  ex- 
cept her,  and  she  drove  them  over  without  their  ever  finding 
her  out.  Miss  Pet  always  is  doing  something  out  of  the  way, 
you  know,  Master  Ranty." 

"  And  how  is  Mr.  Germaine  and  Miss  Erminie,  Mrs. 
Gudge  ? " 

"  Very  well,  indeed  !  Lor'  bless  me  !  you  would  hardly 
know  Mr.  Ray ;  he's  shot  up  like  a  Maypole,  and  got  one  of 
them  nasty  mustarches  onto  his  upper  lip.  Of  all  the  ugly 
things  they  beats  all.  It  actually  makes  my  flesh  creep  to 
see  them  eating  or  drinking  with  them  on.  I'm  glad  you 
don't  wear  one.  Master  Ranty,  for  of  all  the  disgraceful 
things — "  Mrs.  Gudge  paused,  and  rolled  her  eyes  as  in 
intense  disgust,  by  way  of  filling  up  the  hiatus. 

"  It's  no  merit  of  mine,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Ranty,  passing 
his  hand  over  his  lip;  "  I've  been  mowing  away  for  the  last 
three  years  ;  but  owing  to  some  mysterious  dispensation  of 
Providence,  or  the  barrenness  of  the  soil,  or  some  other  incru- 
table  reason,  nothing  can  be  induced  to  sprout.  I  feel  myself 
put  upon  by  Fate,  I  do  so,  Mrs.  Gudge  I  There's  Ray,  now 
with  whiskers,  flourishing,  no  doubt,  like  a  green  bay  tree  ; 
and  here  am  I,  a  young  man  twice  as  deserving,  with  a  face  as 
smooth  as  a  sheet  of  foolscap.  It's  a  darned  shame,  and  I 
won't  put  up  with  it,  hanged  if  I  dol  Mrs.  Gudge,  let  me 
have  a  horse  and  wagon,  or  a  superannuated  gander,  or  a  go- 
cart,  or  some  other  quadruped  to  take  me  home.  Since  I 
must  tear  myself  away,  I  may  as  well  do  it  first  as  last." 

Mrs.  Gudge  opened  the  door,  and  called  to  Bobby  to  bring 
round  a  horse ;  and  soon  after  that  hopeful  made  his  ap- 
pearance, leading  the  animal  by  the  bridle.  Ranty  waved  a 
good-by  to  Mrs.  Gudge,  flung  a  handful  of  coppers  to  her 
son,  jumped  into  the  saddle,  and  was  off,  as  Bob  Gudge 
afterward  expressed  it  "  like  Old  Nick  in  a  gale  of  wind." 

Ranty's  eyes  lit  up  with  pleasure  as  the  old,  familiar  scenes 
came  once  more  in  view.  There  was  the  forest  road,  brin^"- 
ing  back  the  memory  of  the  dangerous,  practical  joke  they 


:  ti«.,B^.Mt.ti  |i-«mrtt«|,t«^tKi*>^4»y 


J. 

n  my  Bobby's 
Miss  Erminie 

g- 

le  dickens  did 

1  that  day  ex- 
ir  ever  finding 
Dut  of  the  way, 

Erminie,  Mrs. 

would  hardly 
ind  got  one  of 
Of  all  the  ugly 
flesh  creep  to 
I'm  glad  you 
he  disgraceful 
ler  eyes  as  in 
s. 

R.anty,  passing 
'ay  for  the  last 
ispensation  of 
tne  other  incru- 
I  feel  myself 
;re's  Ray,  now 
een  bay  tree  ; 
,  with  a  face  as 
I  shame,  and  I 
Gudge,  let  me 
ander,  or  a  go- 
ome.  Since  I 
;t  as  last." 
Bobby  to  bring 
1  made  his  ap- 
Ranty  waved  a 
coppers  to  her 
is  Bob  Gudge 
lie  of  wind." 
familiar  scenes 
^st  road,  hrinfy- 
;ical  joke  they 


HOME  FROM  SEA. 


32: 


had  played  on  Pet.  There  was  Dismal  Hollow,  silent,  grim 
gloomy,  and  lonely — a  fit  habitation  for  Miss  Priscilla  Toosy- 
pegs.  There  was  the  Barrens  ;  there  was  the  little,  white, 
vineshaded  cottage  ;  and  yonder  in  the  distance,  dazzling  in 
its  spotless  paint,  was  the  staring,  garish  White  Squall. 
There,  too,  was  the  brown-scorched  road  leading  through  the 
purple  bloom  of  the  heath  to  his  own  ancestral  home  of 
Heath  Hill. 

"  Now  to  give  them  a  surprise,"  said  Ranty,  as  he  alighted 
at  the  little  cottage-gate  and  approached  the  door ;  "  wonder 
if  Minnie  will  know  me;  I  hope  she  is  in." 

The  parlor-door  lay  wide  open,  and  he  looked  in  unob- 
served. It  was  the  day  on  which  Judge  Lawless  had  pro- 
posed, a  few  hours  later ;  and  Erminie,  whose  gentle  nature 
had  not  quite  recovered  from  the  wound  his  threats  and 
harsh  words  had  given  her,  sat  alone  with  the  evening  shadows 
falling  around  her— her  head  resting  on  her  hand,  and  her 
large,  soft  blue  eyes  dark  with  unshed  tears.  Pet  had  just  de- 
parted ;  and  the  quietness  and  reaction  following  the  luster 
of  her  exciting  presence  made  the  silence  and  loneliness 
more  dreary  still. 

Ranty's  first  impulse  had  been  to  rush  in,  catch  her  in  his 
arms,  and  give  her  a  rousing  salute  ;  but  the  moment  he  saw 
her  sweet,  pale  face  and  drooping  figure,,  a  feeling  more 
nearly  approaching  to  timidity  than  anything  our  impudent 
young  sailor  had  ever  felt  before,  held  him  back.  Somehow 
he  had  expected  to  see  a  slender,  delicate  little  girl,  such  as 
he  had  last  beheld  her  ;  but  she  had  passed  away  forever, 
and  here  in  her  place  sat  a  tall,  elegant  girl,  with  a  face  as 
lovely  as  the  hazel-haired  Madonna's  that  had  smiled  upon  him 
in  the  dim,  old  cathedral-aisles  of  glorious  Italy.  He  took  one 
step  forward  ;  she  lifted  her  head  with  a  startled  look  ;  her 
eyes  met  his,  and  she  started  impetuously  to  her  feet. 

"  Erminie  !  " 

"  Ranty  I     Oh,  Ranty  1     I  am  so  glad  1  " 

She  caught  his  hand  in  bgth  hers,  while  her  face,  a  mo- 
ment before  so  pale,  flushed  with  delight,  and  the  violet  eyes 
were  fairly  radiant  with  joy. 

"  Oh,  Ranty,  I  am  so  glad  I     When  did  you  come  ?  " 

■'  Got  to  Baltimore  day  before  yesterday.  I  suppose  you 
hardly  expected  to  see  me  to-night,  Erminie  ?  " 


-ft 


Ml. MM.    IWJJ'T 


N^ 


324  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

«'  No,  indeed  1  And  it  is  the  most  delightful  surprise  1 " 
exclaimed  Erminie,  her  beautiful  face  irradiated  with  joy, 
and  forgetting  she  was  no  longer  speaking  to  the  boy  Ranty. 
But  when  she  caught  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  a  look  the 
boy  had  never  worn,  the  flush  rose  painfully  even  to  her  very 
forehead.  She  dropped  his  hand,  while  her  eyes  fell,  and 
she  said,  in  a  less  assured  tone  : 

"  Sit  down  ;  you  must  be  tired  after  your  journey.  I  am 
very  sorry  Ray  is  not  at  home  to  meet  you." 

•'  Never  mind ;  I  will  see  him  to-morrow.  And  all  my 
friends  have  been  quite  well  since  I  left,  Erminie  ?  '* 

"  Yes,  all.  If  you  had  arrived  ten  minutes  sooner,  you 
would  have  seen  Pet.     She  has  just  gone." 

"  Well,  I  will  shortly  have  that  pleasure.  How  tall  you 
have  grown,  and  how  you  have  changed  since  I  saw  you  last, 
Erminie  1  " 

He  meant  more  the  emphatic  but  undefinable  change  from 
childhood  to  womanhood,  than  that  of  her  looks.  Perhaps 
Erminie  understood  him,  for  she  said,  laughing : 

"  Not  for  the  worse,  I  hope.  You,  too,  have  changed, 
Master  Ranty." 

"  Well,  not  much,  I  think ;  1  have  grown  five  or  six  feet 
taller,  and  my  complexion  has  become  a  genteel  brown; 
but,   otherwise,   I    am   the   same    Ranty    Lawless   I   went 

away." 

"  A  little  quieter,  I  should  hope,  for  the  peace  and  well- 
being  of  the  community  at  large.  Do  you  still  retain  the 
high  opinion  you  had  of  yourself  before  you  left  ?  " 

"  Yes,  slightly  increased,"  said  Ranty,  who  had  now  re- 
covered all  his  customary  nonchalance  of  manner.  "  There 
was  a  little  lady  out  with  us  from  England  whose  precious 
life  I  had  the  pleasure  of  saving  ;  and  with  whose  raven  eyes 
and  coal-black  hair  I  would  have  fallen  in  love,  but  for  the 
thought  of  a  dear  little  blue-eyed  fairy  at  home,  who  promised 
to  wait  for  me  until  I  could  come  back.  Do  you  remember 
that  promise,  Erminie  ? " 

"  I  only  remember  you  were  very  absurd,"  said  Erminie, 
laughing  and  blushing.  "  Don't  talk  nonsense ;  but  tell  me 
how  you  were  so  fortunate  as  to  save  the  lady's  life  ?  " 

a  Well  one  v/indy  evening,  a  little  before  dark,  this  little 
Lady  Rita,  who  by  the  way,  though  the  haughtiest,  sauciest 


»u><«*iniiAWM»  Ttin  ' 


tful  surprise  1 " 
ated  with  joy, 
the  boy  Ranty. 
with  a  look  the 
ven  to  her  very 
-  eyes  fell,  and 

journey.     I  am 

.     And  all  my 

inie  ? » 

tes  sooner,  you 

How  tall  you 
;  I  saw  you  last, 

)le  change  from 
Doks.     Perhaps 
ng: 
have  changed, 

five  or  six  feet 
genteel  brown  ; 
.awless    I   went 

peace  and  well- 
i  still  retain  the 
left  ?  " 

10  had  now  re- 
inner.  "  There 
whose  precious 
hose  raven  eyes 
love,  but  for  the 
e,  who  promised 
)  you  remember 


HOME  FROM  SEA. 


325 


,"  said  Erminie, 
ise ;  but  tell  me 
ly's  life  ?  " 
;  dark,  this  little 
ightiest,  sauciest 


young  damsel  I  ever  encountered,  was  quite  courageous, 
came  upon  deck,  and  insisted  on  remaining  there,  in 
spite  of  all  expostulations  to  the  contrary.  She  was  leaning 
over  the  side,  and  I  was  standing  near,  watching  her, 
for  want  of  something  better  to  do,  when  the  vessel  gave  a 
sudden  lurch  round.  I  heard  a  scream,  and  beheld  the 
place  where  her  little  ladyship  had  lately  stood  vacant.  I 
caught  sight  of  her  the  next  moment  struggling  in  the  waves  ; 
and,  in  a  twinkling,  I  was  in  after  her.  Lady  Rita,  who  had 
hitherto  looked  down  upon  me  and  all  the  rest  of  us  with 
sublimest  hauteur  and  vestal  prudery,  made  not  the  slightest 
objection  to  be  caught  in  my  arms  now ;  on  the  contrary, 
she  held  on  with  an  energy  that  nearly  strangled  me.  A 
boat  was  lowered,  and  we  were  fished  up,  clinging  to  each 
other,  as  if  bound  to  hold  on  to  the  last  gasp.  Lady  Rita, 
according  to  the  incomprehensible  custom  of  the  female  sex 
in  general,  fainted  stone  dead  the  moment  she  found  herself 
in  safety.  It's  interesting  to  faint,  and  I  was  looking  round 
for  a  nice  place  to  follow  her  example ;  but  upon  second 
thoughts  I  concluded  I  wouldn't.  There  were  no  nice  young 
ladies  round  who  understood  my  case ;  and  to  be  tickled 
with  burnt  feathers,  and  be  drenched  with  cold  water  by  a 
lot  of  sailors,  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  Lady  Rita  was 
carried  to  the  cabin  ;  and  a  great  fuss  and  commotion  reigned 
there  for  the  next  two  or  three  hours,  while  I  was  taking  life 
easy,  smoking  a  cigar  on  deck.  Then  the  earl,  her  '  parient,' 
made  his  appearance,  and  completely  deluged  me  with  grati- 
tude and  thanks,  which  I  stood  like  a  hero,  until  the  countess 
also  came.  Her  tears  and  protestations  of  everlasting  grati- 
tude were  a  little  too  much,  and  I  fled.  I  blush  to  say  it, 
but  I  beat  an  inglorious  retreat,  for  thanks  are  things  one 
easily  gets  a  surfeit  of." 

"  Why,  Ranty,  you  have  sailed  in  high  company  lately," 
said  Erminie;  '-earl  and  countess — dear  me!  I  begin  to 
feel  quite  an  awe  of  you." 

"So  you  ought;  and  I  hope  you'll  continue  to  cherish  the 
feeling.  But,  Erminie,  do  you  know — though,  as  you  have 
never  seen  him,  it's  likely  you  don't — but  you  have  the  most 
wonderful  resemblance  to  Lord  De  Courcy  I  ever  beheld  in 
my  life." 

"  Lord  De  Courcy  1 "  exclaimed  Erminie,  growing  pale  as 


326 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


n 


she  remembered  Ketura's  fearful  denunciations  against  all 
who  bore  that  name. 

•'Yes,  Lord  and  Lady  De  Courcy  are  at  present  in 
Washington  City.  The  earl  says  he  always  felt  a  desire  to 
visit  this  country;  but,  hitherto,  circumstances  prevented 
him.  The  countess  is  a  lovely  woman — one  of  the  most 
beautiful,  I  think,  I  ever  saw ;  and  as  good  as  she  is  beauti- 
ful, every  one  says." 

"  I  have  heard  of  her  before,"  said  Erminie,  in  a  low,  sub- 
dued tone.  "  Mr.  Toosypegs  saw  her  many  years  ago,  when 
he  was  in  England.  At  least,  I  imagine  it  was  her ;  for  she 
was  the  wife  of  the  old  earl's  son,  and  Mr.  Toosypegs  says 
that  since  the  death  of  his  father  he  has  been  Lord  De 
Courcy." 

•'  Yes,  so  he  has,"  said  Ranty ;  "  he  was  then  Lord 
Villiers ;  but  really,  Minnie,  your  likeness  to  him  is  quite 
wonderful." 

"Well,  it  is  not  unusual  for  strangers  to  resemble  one 
another ;  though  I  suppose  I  ought  to  feel  flattered  by  look- 
ing in  the  remotest  degree  like  one  so  great  and  distinguished. 
How  much  I  should  like  to  see  them  both  I  "  said  Erminie, 
musingly.  "  I  have  heard  so  much  about  them  from  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  and — another,  that  my  curiosity  is  quite  excited. 
And  their  daught-  r — this  Lady  Rita — was  that  what  you 
called  her  ?  Ey  the  way,  Ranty,  I  never  heard  they  had  a 
daughter." 

"  Yes,  they  had  two ;  the  oldest  died,  I  believe,  when  a 
child;  and  Lady  Rita — well,  some  say  she  is  not  their 
daughter,  but  an  adopted  child.  I  don't  know  how  that  may 
be ;  though,  certain  it  is,  she  does  not  look  like  either  of 
them — not  half  so  much  as  you  do,  Erminie.  Both  of  them 
have  very  fair  complexions,  while  Lady  Rita  is  as  dark  as  a 
Creole.  The  countess,  to  be  sure,  has  dark  hair  and  eyes ; 
but  still  her  haughty  little  daughter  does  not  resemble  her 
in  the  least." 

"  Do  they  remain  here  long  ? "  said  Erminie,  half  mus- 
ingly.    "  Oh,  Ranty,  how  much  I  should  like  to  see  them  1  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  may  ;  in  the  overflowing  of  their  gra- 
titude, they  made  me  promise  to  visit  them  enfamille,  while 
they  remained ;  and  if  you'll  only  consent  to  keep  your 
promise,  and  become  Mrs.  Lawless,  why,  you  can  come  with 


""*W«:I^|B1>W*>^ 


ns  against  all 

at  present  in 
felt  a  desire  to 
ices  prevented 
e  of  the  most 
5  she  is  beauti- 

,  in  a  low,  sub- 
rears  ago,  when 
xs  her ;  for  she 
roosypegs  says 
)een  Lord  De 


HOME  FROM  SEA. 


337 


'as   then 
o  him  is 


Lord 
quite 


resemble  one 
ittered  by  look- 
1  distinguished. 
"  said  Erminie, 
them  from  Mr. 
s  quite  excited, 
that  what  you 
ard  they  had  a 

believe,  when  a 
e  is  not  their 
w  how  that  may 

like  either  of 
Both  of  them 

is  as  dark  as  a 
hair  and  eyes; 
)t  resenible  her 

linie,  half  mus- 
!  to  see  them  I  " 
ng  of  their  gra- 
'.nfamilk,  while 
to  keep  your 
I  can  come  with 


me,  and  I  know  they  will  be  delighted  to  welcome  my  wife." 

"  Nonsense,  Ranty,"  said  Erminie,  a  little  impatiently, 
"  how  absurd  you  are  !  I  am  not  to  be  accountable  for  your 
silly  talk  when  we  parted,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Well,  all  I  have  to  say  about  it  is,  that  there  will  be  a 
case  of  '  breach  of  promise  '  up  before  the  court  one  of  these 
days,  if  you  attempt  to  back  out.  Are  you  prepared  to  pay 
me  five  or  six  thou'  and  dollars  damages,  as  a  plaster  for  my 
wounded  feelings,  may  I  ask,  Miss  Germaine  ?  " 

"  As  if  your  affections  were  worth  one-tenth  that  sum,  Mr. 
Lawless  1  Now,  do  be  sensible,  if  you  can,  and  tell  me  how 
long  you  are  going  to  stay  home." 

"  As  to  being  sensible.  Miss  Germaine,  I  flatter  myself  I 
am  that  now ;  and  my  stay,  or  departure,  must  depend  in  a 
great  measure  on  you," 

"  Now,  Ranty,  I  shall  get  angry  if  you  don't  stop  being 
so  nonsensical  I  "  said  Erminie,  flushing  slightly.  *'  I  did 
hope  going  to  sea  would  have  put  a  little  sense  into  your 
head ;  but  I  perceive  it  has  had  quite  a  contrary  effect.  I 
wish  you  could  see  Ray.  These  six  years  have  made  him 
as  grave  and  thoughtful  as  a  judge.  I  expect  he  will  be 
quite  famous  in  his  profession  yet." 

"  Well,  I  wish  him  joy  of  it,"  said  Ranty.  "  But  how  any 
man  can  reconcile  it  to  his  conscience  to  be  a  lawyer,  while 
honest,  straight-forward  piracy  is  flourishing  in  the  South 
Seas,  and  old-fashioned,  upright  brigands  infest  the  Pyrenees, 
is  beyond  my  comprehension  I  However,  every  one  to  their 
taste;  and,  luckily,  this  is  a  free  country.  Good-by,  now, 
Miss  Germaine.  Fate  and  the  approach  of  night  compels 
me  to  be  off ;  but  you  may  look  out  for  me  an  hour  or  so 
before  day-dawn  to-morrow." 

And  Ranty  got  up,  shook  hands  with  Erminie,  mounted 
his  horse,  and  rode  off. 

"  Now  Ranty  Lawless,"  said  that  gentleman  to  himself, 
when  fairly  on  the  road,  "  it's  my  private  belief  and  impres- 
sion that  you  are  falling  in  love,  young  man  I  What  a  sweet, 
artless,  lovely  face  the  girl  has  got,  any  way  I  And  those 
eyes — those  wistful,  tender,  violet  eyes — how  they  do  go 
through  a  fellow's  vest-pattern,  though  1  Ranty,  my  son, 
take  care !  Have  you  escaped  the  witchery  of  dark-eycd 
Spanish  donas  ;  the  melting  glances  of  Italia 's  raven-haired 


m 


•J'"*'Ui  •  MS 


328 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


ff  ^ 


ii- 


daughters;  the  enchantment  of  the  little  knobby-footed, 
suffron-skinncd  ladies  of  the  Celestial  Empiie  ;  the  be- 
devilment  of  the  free-and-easy  niesdatnes  of  free-and-easy 
France,  to  be  hooked  the  moment  you  land,  by  the  blue  eyes, 
golden  hair,  pearly  skin,  and  pink  cheeks  of  this  little  cot- 
tage-girl, Erniinie  ?  What  will  the  governor  say,  I  want  to 
know  ?  Well,  it's  time  enough  to  think  of  that  yet.  No  use 
worrying  till  the  time  comes.  '  Care  killed  a  cat,'  they  say  ; 
so,  lest  I  should  share  in  that  unfortunate  quadruped's  fatt, 
I  shall  take  things  easy.  There's  the  White  Squall.  I  think 
I  shall  go  over  and  see  my  worthy  uncle,  the  admiral." 

So  saying,  Ranty  rode  rapidly  in  <"  le  direction  of  the  flar- 
ing white  mansion,  and  entered,  .  ithout  ceremony.  The 
admiral,  as  usual,  was  alone  in  the  parlor,  and  gave  his 
nephew  a  boisterous  welcome,  shaking  his  hand  as  if  he  had 
hold  of  the  handle  of  a  pump,  until  Ranty  winced  and  jerked 
it  away.  Then,  having  replied  to  the  avalanche  of  questions 
with  which  the  ancient  marin»„r  overwhelmed  him,  Ranty 
rose,  and  rode  homeward,  to  surprise  the  household  there. 

Surprise  the  household  he  did — at  least  all  of  them  to  be 
found — which  were  only  the  servants.  The  judge  was  gone, 
and  so  was  Pet. 

"  Why,  Aunt  Deb,  Pet  started  for  home  nearly  an  hour 
ago,"  said  Ranty,  somewhat  alarmed.  "  What  can  have  be- 
come of  her  ? " 

"  Lors  1  Mars'r  Ranty,  how  de  debbil  I  know  ?  "  said 
Aunt  Deb,  who  was  given  to  profanity  now  and  then.  "  Dar 
ain't  nebber  no  tellin'  whar  dat  ar  little  limb  pokes  herself. 
She  might  be  at  dem  old  Bar'ns,  or  she  might  be  at  Dismal 
Holler,  or  she  might  '^e  gone  to  old  Harry — " 

"  Old  Harry  1 "  interrupted  Ranty,  angrily.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ? " 

"  Why,  ole  Mars'r  Harry  Hateful ;  dar  ain't  no  tellin'  whar 
she  is  I " 

"  Well,  that's  true  enough.  I  wish  she  were  here,  how- 
ever. Perhaps  she  won't  be  back  to-night,"  said  Ranty, 
walking  up  and  down  the  room,  and  whistling  a  sea  air. 

Aunt  Deb  bustled  out  to  prepare  supper,  to  which  meal 
our  young  sailor  sat  down  alone,  wondering,  alternately, 
where  Pet  could  be,  and  thinking  of  the  witching,  violet  eyes 
of  Erminie.     Then,  when  it  was  over,  he  took  up  a  book,  to 


««*kmnMMi>HM< 


7. 

nobby-footed, 
jiie  ;  the  be- 
free-and-easy 
the  blue  eyes, 
this  little  cct- 
say,  I  want  to 
;  yet.  No  use 
cat,'  they  say  ; 
druped's  fatt , 
quail.  I  think 
dmiral." 
on  of  the  flar- 
■eniony.  The 
and  gave  his 
d  as  if  he  had 
ed  and  jerked 
e  of  questions 
i  him,  Ranty 
isehold  there, 
of  them  to  be 
Jge  was  gone, 

arly  an   hour 
can  have  be- 

Icnow  ?  "  said 

1  then.    "  Dar 

pokes  herself. 

be  at  Dismal 

'  What  do  you 

10  tellin'  whar 

;re  here,  how- 
'  said  Ranty, 
1  sea  air. 
D  which  meal 
,  alternately, 
g,  violet  eyes 
up  a  book,  to 


HOME  FROM  SEA. 


329 


beguile  time,  hoping  still  to  see  Pet ;  but  when  eleven  o'clock 
struck,  h?  gave  up  the  idea  of  seeing  her  that  night,  and  re- 
tired to  bed,  to  dream  of  Erminie. 

As  he  had  partaken  of  the  evening  meal  alone  the  evening 
before,  so  was  he  forced  to  sit  so/o  at  breakfast.  Neither 
Pet  nor  the  judge  had  returned,  nor  were  any  tidings  to  be 
obtained  of  their  whereabouts  ;  and,  after  breakfast,  Ranty 
immediately  rode  over  to  the  Barrens. 

In  the  cottage  he  found  Ray,  who  hau  just  returned,  who 
was  receiving  an  account  of  Ranty's  arrival  from  the  lips  of 
Erminie,  when  the  entrance  oi  that  young  gentleman  himself 
cut  it  short.  Warm  ai  1  hearty  was  the  greeting  between 
the  two  friends  ;  for  never  brothers  loved  each  other  better 
than  did  they. 

"  I  suppose  Pet  was  in  perfect  ecstasies  of  delight  at  your 
unexpected  return,"  said  Erminie,  taking  her  work  and  sit- 
ting down  on  her  low  rocking-chair  by  the  window. 

"  Pet  1  why  the  little  gadabout  never  was  at  home  at  all 
last  night;  and  where  the  deuce  to  find  her,  I  don't  know." 

"  Not  at  home !  "  said  Erminie,  in  surprise.  "  Why,  where 
can  she  be,  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  Miss  Germaine,  that  is  just  what  I  would  feel  very 
much  obliged  to  you  to  tell  me.  It's  very  like  looking  for  a 
needle  in  a  hay-stack,  I'm  inclined  to  think,  to  go  hunting 
for  her.  The  best  way,  is  to  take  things  easy,  and  let  her 
come  home  when  she  likes." 

"  Why,  it  is  most  singular,"  said  Erminie.  "  I  know  she 
started  for  home,  and  took  the  road  leading  to  Heath  Hill. 
Perhap.  she  changed  her  mind,  and  went  to  the  White 
Squall." 

"  No ;  that  she  didn't,"  said  Ranty.  "  I  was  there  last 
night  after  leaving  here.  The  girl's  bewitched ;  and 
perhaps  she  rode  off  on  some  Quixotic  expedition  by 
herself," 

*"  She  was  on  foot,"  said  Erminie,  now  really  growing 
alarmed.  "  Starlight  was  lame  or  something ;  so  she  started 
to  walk  home.  Oh,  Ranty  I  I  am  afraid  that  something 
has  happened  to  her,"  she  cried,  looking  up  in  terror. 

"  Oh,  pooh,  Ermie  1  What  could  happen  to  her  between 
this  and  Heath  Hill  ?  Nonsense  i  "  said  Ranty,  beginning 
to  look  uneasy. 


"WBBPnfT 


Txyrr- 


330 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'vS  VOW. 


M  ' 


"  What  hour  did  she  leave  here,  Minnie?  "asked  Ray,  his 
dark  face  paling  slightly  at  the  thought  of  danger  to  her. 

"  It  was  nearly  dark,  and  she  had  to  walk  all  alone  over 
that  lonesome  heath.  Oh,  Ray  1  something  must  hav(; 
happened  to  her  I  "  cried  Erminie,  growing  white  with  vague 
alarm. 

"  Why,  what  in  Heaven's  name  could  have  happened 
to  her?"  asked  Ranty,  catching  the  infection  of  Erminie's 
fears.     "  No  one  has  ever  been  molested  on  the  heath." 

"  Those  lawless  smugglers  are  continually  prowling  around 
now ;  and  it   is  very  unsafe  for  a  young  girl  to  venture  in 

Good  heavens  I 
cried  Ray  start- 


such  a  lonely  place,  unprotected,  after  night, 
if  she  should  have  fallen  into  their  hands 
ing  up,  in  consternation. 

"  Oh,  Ray  1  I  hope  not.  Oh,  Ray  I  do  you  really  think 
she  has? "  exclaimed  Erminie,  clasping  her  hands  in  mortal 
terror. 

"  There  is  no  telling.  Some  of  that  lawless  gang  are  con- 
tinually prowling  about  the  woods,  and  shore,  and  heath,  and 
if  they  saw  Pet — Miss  Lawless,"  he  added,  checking  himself , 
and  biting  his  lip — "  they  would  made  her  a  prisoner  at  once. 
There  is  no  deed  of  violence  too  dark  or  dreadful  for  them 
to  do.  They  are  something  worse  than  smugglers,  I  more 
than  suspect.  This  smuggling,  I  fancy,  serves  but  as  a 
cloak  for  the  far  worse  crime  of  piracy.  I  have  heard  that 
their  leader — Captain  Reginald,  they  call  him — is  one  of  the 
most  reckless  and  daring  desperadoes  that  ever  made  general 
war  under  the  black  flag ;  and  those  of  his  crew  that  I  have 
seen  roving  about  here,  look  to  be  cut-throats,  savage  enough 
for  anything,  from  wholesale  murder  downward.  Great 
Heaven  I  if  Petronilla  should  have  fallen  into  their  hands  1  " 
said  Ray,  pacing  up  and  down  in  much  agitation. 

'*  But  it  cannot  be,  Ray ;  it  is  impossible,  absurd,  I  tell 
you.  Why,  man,  what  could  these  buccaneers  possibly  want 
with  Pet  ?  A  nice  prize  she  would  be  for  any  one  to  take  in 
tow  1  "  said  Ranty,  getting  alarmed  in  spite  of  himself. 

**  They  might  take  her  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  large 
ransom  for  her  release,  or  they  might — oh  I  the  thought  is 
too  horrible  to  contemplate  I  *  exclaimed  Ray,  almost  fiercely. 
"  Ranty,  why  are  we  losing  time  here,  when  your  sister  may 
be  in  such  danger  ?     This  is  no  time  for  idle  talking.     About  I 


? 


)W. 

'  asked  Ray,  his 
nger  to  her. 
k  all  alone  over 
ng    must   have 
hite  with  vague 

lave  happened 
on  of  Enninie's 
n  the  heath." 
jrowling  around 
rl  to  venture  in 
Good  heavens  I 
cried  Ray  start- 

ou  really  think 
lands  in  mortal 

s  gang  are  con- 
,  and  heath,  and 
lecking  himself, 
risoner  at  once, 
eadful  for  them 
igglers,  I  more 
2rves  but  as  a 
lave  heard  that 
I — is  one  of  the 
:r  made  general 
ew  that  I  have 
savage  enough 
'nward.  Great 
their  hands  I  " 
tion. 

,  absurd,  I  tell 
s  possibly  want 
y  one  to  take  in 
[  himself. 
)taining  a  large 
the  thought  is 
almost  fiercelv. 
^our  sister  may 
iking.     About  1 


HOME  FROM  SEA. 


331 


mount  I  and  off  in  search  of  her  I  I  will  instantly  follow  !  » 
"  Well  but  wait  a  minute,  Ray,  before  starting  on  this 
wild-goose  chase,"  said  Ranty.  "  How  do  we  know  that  she 
is  not  safely  housed  in  Dismal  Hollow,  or  somewhere  m 
Judestown,  all  this  time,  while  we  are  raving  about  pirates 

and  abductors  ?  "  ..... 

»  Oh,  she  is  not  1  she  is  not !  "  cried  Erminie,  wringing  her 
hands. '  "  She  started  for  Heath  Hill,  and  had  no  intention 
of  going  anywhere  else.  Wild  and  daring  as  she  is,  she 
would  not  venture  to  walk  alone  through  the  forest  after 
night.     Oh,  holy  saints  1  what  can  have  become  of  her  ?  " 

•«  We  are  losing  time  talking,"  said  Ray,  whose  face  was 
now  perfectly  colorless  with  contending  emotions.  "  Mount, 
Ranty,  and  ride  back  to  Heath  Hill  and  the  White 
Squall,  and  see  if  she  has  returned  to  either  place  since  you 
left.  I  will  go  to  Dismal  Hollow  and  Judestown,  and  search 
for  her  there.  If  she  is  to  be  found  in  neither  of  these 
places,  then  it  must  be  too  true  that  she  has  fallen  in^o  the 
hands  of  the  smugglers." 

Ranty,  alarmed,  but  still  incredulous,  sprung  on  his  horse 
and  galloped  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  White  Squall, 
while  Ray,  at  an  equally  rapid  and  excited  pace,  took  the 
opposite  road  leading  to  Dismal  Hollow.  And  Erminie, 
white  with  vague,  nameless,  but  terrible  apprehension,  re- 
mained behind,  to  pace  up  and  down  the  floor,  wring  her 
hands  and  strain  her  eyes  in  anxious  watching  for  their  return. 
Ranty  was  the  first  to  retu-u,  with  the  alarming  tu'ings 
that  nothing  had  been  heard  her  at  either  place  since. 
Nearly  wild  with  terror  now,  .  iiTiinie  continued  her  excited 
pace  up  and  down  the  room,  cryinj^j  bitterly. 

"Oh  '   ^  Id  not  have  let  her  go  1    If    ould  not  have 

let  ht  i  I  <  aight  to  have  kept  her  all  night.  I  knew  it  was 
dangerous  crossing  the  heath,  and  I  should  not  have  let  her 
attempt  it  alone.     Oh,  if  Ray  would  only  come  I " 

But  another  long,  se  mingly  interminable  hour  passed  be- 
fore Ray  made  his  appearance,  and  then  he  came  dashing  up, 
pale,  wild  and  excited. 

His  eyes  met  Ranty's  as  he  entered.     That  glance  told  all 

= — both  had  failed.  _ 

<'  Vou  have  not  found  her  ?  ■''  said  Kanty,  hurriedly.  _ 

«  No ;  but  I  heard  enough  to  confirm  my  worst  suspicions. 


332 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


it' 


"Late  yesterday  afternoon,  Orlando  Toosypegs  says  he  saw  one 
of  the  gang,  a  fellow  called  Black  Bart,  accompanied  by  some 
one  else,  he  could  not  discern  who,  but  doubtless  another  of 
the  outlaws,  take  the  forest-road  leading  this  way.  Pet  has 
been  waylaid  and  entrapped  by  them,  there  can  be  no  doubt ; 
for  neither  of  them  have  been  seen  since." 

Erminie  dropped,  like  one  suddenly  stricken,  into  a  seat, 
and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  Brother  and  lover  looked 
in  each  other's  pale  faces  with  an  unspoken  :  "  What  next  ? " 


( 


»i  ■ 

•)i      .i  • 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


FACE  TO  FACE. 


"  Ah  me  ! 

The  world  is  full  of  meetings  such  as  this." 

—Willis. 


4  IL 


i    I; 


**  What  next  ?  " 

It  was  Ranty  who  spoke  in  a  deep,  excited  voice.  Ray, 
white  and  stone-like,  stood  with  one  arm  resting  on  the 
mantel,  his  face  shaded  by  his  heavy,  falling  hair,  his  deep 
breathing  painfully  breaking  the  silence.  Ah !  in  that  mo- 
ment how  the  gossamer  wall  of  his  sophistry  was  swept  away  I 
He  had  flattered  himself  his  resolution  was  strong  enough  to 
keep  him  from  loving  Pet ;  but  now,  now  that  she  was  gone, 
and  perhaps  forever,  the  truth  stood  glaring  out  in  all  its 
vividness,  and  he  felt  that  he  loved  her  with  his  whole  heart 
and  soul,  as  only  a  strong,  fervid,  passionate  nature  like  his 
could  love.  His  strong  chest  heaved  with  an  emotion  too 
deep  and  intense  for  words ;  and  as  he  thought  of  her,  alone 
and  unprotected,  in  the  power  of  those  ruthless  men,  his 
very  respiration  stopped,  unttil  it  became  painful  to  listen  for 
its  return.  Ranty's  question  roused  him  ;  and  the  necessity 
for  immediate  action  restored,  in  some  measure,  his 
customary  calmness  and  clear-headed  energy. 

"  We  ought  instantly  engage  the  services  of  the  Judestown 
police,  and  begin  a  vigorous  search,  I  think,"  said  Ranty. 

''  Search  1  Have  not  the  police  and  the  revenue  officers 
searched  for  this  infernal  smugglers'  den  for  the   last  six 


i-»".,««^»**«w%j|»Ea4ijtv»jai^}»..«i» 


FACE  TO  FACE. 


333 


s  he  saw  one 
ied  by  some 
s  another  of 
iy.  Pet  has 
e  no  doubt ; 

into  a  seat, 
)ver  looked 
/hat  next  ? " 


:llis. 


oice.  Ray, 
sting  on  the 
ir,  his  deep 
in  that  mo- 
wept  away  I 
J  enough  to 
e  was  gone, 
Jt  in  all  its 
whole  heart 
ure  like  his 
amotion  too 
E  her,  alone 
is  men,  his 
to  listen  for 
le  necessity 
easure,    his 

Judestown 
d  Ranty. 
nue  officers 
he   last  six 


months  without  ceasing  ?  and  yet  they  were  as  near  finding 
it  the  first  day  as  they  are  now." 

-  Then  what  is  to  be  done?"  said  Ranty.  "  We  must 
try  some  means  to  find  her,  that  is  certam.  Poor  Pet  1 
Oh  1  I  always  had  a  sort  of  presentiment  that  mad  girl 
would  get  herself  into  some  scrape  of  that  kind,  sooner 
or  later.  Hang  the  villains  1  I  would  like  to  swing  everyone 
of  them  to  the  yard-arm  myself."  ,    ,      ,„ 

"  Ought  you  not  to  send  word  to  your  father  ?"  suggested 
Erminie  whose   face   was   perfectly  colorless  with  fear  for 

Pet. 

"  I  suppose  I  ought ;  but  where  am  1  to  find  him  ?  He  has 
gone  as  well  as  Pet,  and  no  one  seems  to  know  in  what  direc- 
tion 'he  may  be  found.     The  smugglers  can't  surely  have 

taken  him,  too."  ,-       r      -. 

"  Though  I  know  it  will  be  fruitless,  I  see  nothing  for  it 
but  to  follow  your  advice,  and  inform  the  Judestown  author- 
ities. The  shore  in  every  direction  must  be  searched ;  for 
if  heaven  and  earth  has  to  be  roused,  we  must  find  your 
sister  1  "  exclaimed  Ray. 

"  What  if  they   have  taken   her  off  to  sea  ? "  suggested 

Ranty.  .,,    .j 

Ray  started  violently  for  a  moment,  at  the  terrible  idea  ; 
the  next,  a  contrary  conviction   settled  in  his  mind    and  he 

said :  ... 

'•  I  hardly  think  so ;  they  would  not  be  so  precipitate. 
At  all  events,  by  commencing  a  thorough  search  immedi- 
ately we  may  discover  some  clue  to  her  whereabouts.  We 
had  best  return  immediately  to  Judestown,  and  enlist  all  we 
can  in  the  search." 

"  W^e  will  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  volunteers  for  the 
hunt,"  said  Ranty.  "  Pet  was  always  an  immense  favorite 
with  every  one,  and  the  whole  town,  1  believe,  would  rise  in 
a  body  to  look  for  her,  did  we  wish  it.  I  would  not  give 
much  for  Black  Bart's  life  if  he  attempts  to  show  himself  to 
the  mob  after  they  hear  this." 

So  saying,  the  two  passed  out,  mounted  their  horses,  and 
set  off  for  Judestown. 

If  that  morning  had  seemed  long  to  Pet  in  her  prison, 
doubly  long  did  it  appear  to  Erminie,  who,  too  uneasy  and 
restless  either  to  sit  still  or  work,  paced  up  and  down  the 


ii'i 


i'1 


334 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i: 


room,  or  passed  in  and  out  of  the  cottage,  straining  her  eyes 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  first  who  would  come  with  news  of 
Pet.  But  the  morning  passed  and  no  one  came  ;  and  sick 
weary  and  worn  out  with  anxiety  and  disappointment,  she 
sunk  down  on  a  seat,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  in  a 
passionate  burst  of  tears, 

A  heavy,  plodding  step  coming  up  the  graveled  walk  in 
front  of  the  cottage  roused  her,  at  last.  She  sprung  to  her 
feet,  and  stood  with  cheeks  flushed,  lips  parted,  eyes  dilated, 
and  bosom  heaving,  with  eager  expectation. 

But  it  was  only  the  admiral,  who  came  stumping  in,  look- 
ing more  completely  mystified  and  bewildered  than  any  one 
had  ever  seen  him  before  in  their  lives. 

"Helm-a-lee  1 "  roared  the  admiral,  thrusting  his  huge 
head  in  the  room.  "  What  the  dickens  has  little  Firefly  run 
afoul  of  now,  or  what's  in  the  wind,  anyway  }  " 

"  Oh  Admiral  Havenful  1     Pet's  lost  I  been  carried  off  by 
hose  dreadful  smugglers  1 "  said  Erminie,  sinking  back  in  a 
fresh  burst  of  passionate  grief. 

"Stand  from  under !  "  exclaimed  the  old  sailor,  in  a  slow 
bewildered  tone,  every  reasoning  faculty  completely  upset  by 
this  astounding  intelligence.  '^        j     t-        j 

''Oh,  it  was  my  fault  1  it  was   my  fault  I  "  cried  Erminie 
with  bitter  self-reproach.     "  I  should  not  have  allowed  her 
to  go  last  night  at  all.     Oh,  I  will  never,  never   forgive  my 
self  as  long  as  I  live,"  and  another  burst  of  tears  followed  the 
declaration. 

"Stand  from  under!  '» reiterated  the  admiral,  still  "far 
wide  ;  "  Firefly  carried  off  by  the  smugglers  I  Good  Lord  1 
Keep  her  round  a  point  or  so." 

"They  will  take  her  off  to  sea,  and  she  will  never  come 
back  again.  Oh,  Pet,"  wept  Erminie  in  a  wild  outburst  of 
grief. 

"  Now,  Snowdrop,  just  hold  on  a  minute,  will  you  ?  "  said 
the  admiral,  facing  briskly  round.  "  Just  stand  by  till  we 
see  how  we're  coming.  The  question  is,  now,  where's 
l^irefiy  ?     That's  the  question,  ain't  it.  Snowdrop?  " 

Erminie's  sobs  were  her  only  answer. 

"  Just  stand  by  a  minute  longer,  will  you  ?  "  said  the  ad- 


-  _  ^  ~     •^.. ),»,.,    ,,11.  jf 

mirai,  lifting  up  the  forefinger  of  his  right 
it  at  Erminie's  head.     "  Firefly's  gone—: 


hand,  and  aiming 
sunk — went  to  the 


.,^«js«iis-»'ss(f'; 


FACE  TO  FACE. 


335 


ing  her  eyes 
vith  news  of 
;  and  sick, 
itment,  she 
hands  in  a 

;led  walk  in 
irung  to  her 
yes  dilated, 

ng  in,  look- 
an  any  one 

his   huge 
Firefly  run 

■ried  off  by 
;  back  in  a 

,  in  a  slow, 
ly  upset  by 

i  Erminie, 
lowed  her 
Forgive  my 
)llowed  the 

still  «far 
ood  Lord  1 

ever  come 
utburst  of 

ou  ? "  said 
by  till  we 
,    Where's 


id  the  ad- 
id  aiming 
2nt  to  the 


bottom,    and   no   one  left   to   tell  the  tale— ain't  that   it, 

Snowdrop  ?  "  ,  , 

Erminie,  knowing  the  admiral  must  be   answered,  made  a 

motion  of  assent.  .    ,   ,    .     .        , 

«  Now  the  question  is,  "  went  on  the  admiral,  brmgmg  the 
fin'^er  down  upon  the  palm  of  his  other  hand,  and  looking 
lixedly  at  them  ;  "  the  question  ;  what  did  Firefly  run  afoul 
of  ?     She  must  have  run  afoul  of    something,  mustn't  she, 

Snowdrop  ?  " 

<'  Y-e-s,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Erminie.  not  very  clearly  un- 
derstanding the  admiral's  logic. 

•'  And  that  something  she  run  afoul  of  is  supposed  to  be 
smugglers.  Port  your  helm,"  roared  the  admiral,  on  whose 
somewhat  obtuse  mind  the  whole  affair  was  slowly  be- 
ginning to  dawn. 

"  Oh,  Admiral  Havenful  1  what  do  you  think  they  will  do 
with  her  ?  Surely  they  will  not  kill  her  1 "  exclaimed 
Erminie  looking  up  imploringly.  ^^ 

"  Just  you  hold  on  a  minute  longer,  will  you.  Snowdrop .  ' 
said  the  admiral,  looking  fixedly  at  the  fingers  lying  on  his 
broad  left  palm,  "  and  don't  you  keep  putting  me  out  like 
this.  Pet's  run  afoul  of  smugglers  ;  they  have  boarded  her, 
and  she's  knocked  under  and  surrendered.  Ain't  that  it, 
Snowdrop  ? " 

"  They  have  carried  her  off — yes,  sir,"  wept  Erminie. 

"  They  have  carried  her  off— yes,  sir,"  slowly  repeated 
the  admiral,  in  the  same  tone  of  intense  thoughtfulness, 
"  they  have  carried  her  off,  but  where  to  ?  There  it  is,  Snow- 
drop, where  to  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  knew  I  I  wish  I  knew  1  If  we  could  only 
discern  that,  all  would  be  well.     Oh,  dear,  dear  Pet  1  " 

"  Pet  has  run  afoul  of  smugglers  and  been  carried  off,  no- 
body knows  where.  Stand  from  under !  "  yelled  the  admiral, 
in  a  perfect  paroxysm  of  grief  and  consternation,  as  the 
whole  affair  now  burst  in  full  force  upon  him. 

There  was  no  reply  from  Erminie,  who  still  wept  in  si- 
lent grief. 

"  Main  topsail  haul !  "  shouted  the  old  man,  in  mingled 
rage  and  grief,  as  it  all  dawned  clearly  upon  his  mind  at  last. 
Pet's  gone  1  Been  captivated ;  been  boarded,  scuttled,  and 
sunk.     Oh,  perdition  I  "  yelled  the  admiral,  jumping  up  and 


•wr 


"if'T* 


336 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN  S  VOW. 


4' 


stamping  up  and  down,  grasping  his  wig  with  both  hands,  in 
his  tempest  of  grief.     "  Oh,  Firefly,  you  dear,  blessed  httle 
angel  I  You  darned,  diabolical  little   fool  I  Going  and  trust- 
mg  your  nose  into  every  mischief  that  ever  was  invented 
Oh,  you  darling,  merry  little   whirligig!  You  confounded" 
blamed,  young  demon  I  To  go  and  get  yourself  into  such  a 
scrape.     Oh,  if  I  only  had  hold  of  the  villains  1  They  ou'^ht 
to  be  hung  to  the  yard-arm,  every  blessed  one  of  them.     Oh 
Pet,  my  darling  I  By  the  body  and  bones  of  Paul  Jones,  yoJ 
ought  to  be  thrashed  within  an  inch  of  your  life.     Oh  oh 
oh,  oh,  I  "  roared  the  admiral,  in  a  final  burst  of  grief,  as  he 
flung  himself  into  his  chair  and  began  a  fierce  moppin?  of 
his  inflamed  face. 

While  thus  engaged,  another  step  resounded  without— a 
slow  lingering,  dejected  step— and  the  next  moment  the 
pallid  features,  and  mild  blue  eyes  of  Mr.  Toosypegs  beamed 
upon  them  from  the  door. 

"  Orlando,"  shouted  the  afflicted  admiral,  "  she's  went  and 
did  It  1  Firefly's  gone  and  did  it  1  Yes,  Orlando,  she's  gone 
to  Davy's  locker,  I  expect,  before  this,  and  the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  her  soul  1  " 

"Admiral  Havenful,  I'm  really  sorry  to  hear  it,  I  really 
am,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  wiping  his  eyes  with  the  north-west 
corner  of  his  yellow  bandanna.  "  I  never  felt  so  bad  about 
anything  in  my  life.  I  never  did,  I  assure  you,  Admiral 
Havenful.  But  why  can't  they  go  to  Davy's  locker  after 
her  ?  I  should  think  they  wouldn't  mind  the  expense  in  a 
case  like  this." 

"  Orlando  C.  Toosypegs,"  said  the  admiral,  severely;  "  I 
hope  you  don't  mean  to  poke  fun  at  people  in  grief ;  because 
if  you  do,  it  shows  a  very  improper  spirit  on  your  part,  and 
a  total  depravity  I  should  be  sorry  to  see,  Orlando 
Toosypegs." 

"  Why,  my  gracious  1  "  said  the  astonished  and  aggrieved 
Mr.  Toosypegs;  "  wl  at  have  I  said.?  I'm  sure,  Admiral 
Havenful,  I  hadn't  the  remotest  idea  of  being  funny,  that 
ever  was  ;  and  if  I  said  anything  that  wasn't  right,  I  beg 
your  pardon  for  it,  and  can  assure  you  I  never  meant  it." 

"  Well,  then,  enough  said,"  testily  interrupted  the  admiral. 
"  Now,  Snowdrop,  look  here :  what  are  they  goin-  to  do 
about  Pet?"  /  «=      t, 


niw  .tfiiii»n>!iiii  iiiiii»n»iwyn»rtw 


FACE  TO  FACE. 


337 


)oth  hands,  in 
blessed  little 
ing  and  trust- 
^as  invented. 

confounded, 
f  into  such  a 

They  ought 
f  them.  Oh, 
ul  Jones,  you 
ife.  Oh,  oh, 
f  grief,  as  he 
i  moppingf  of 

i  without— a 
moment  the 
pegs  beamed 

e's  went  and 

,  she's  gone 

Lord  have 

:  it,  I  really 
e  north-west 
o  bad  about 
ou.  Admiral 
locker  after 
xpense  in  a 

everely ;  "  I 
lef ;  because 
ir  part,  and 
e,    Orlando 

d  aggrieved 
■e.  Admiral 
funny,  that 
right,  I  beg 
leant  it." 
he  admiral, 
oing  to  do 


!    'J 


i  '^ 


«'  Ray  and  Ranty  have  gone  to  Judestown  to  get  the  peo- 
ple to  search.  They  think  she  is  somewhere  along  the 
beach,  in  some  hidden  cave  the  smugglers  have  there." 

"  U-m-m  1  very  good,"  said  the  admiral,  nodding  his  head 
approvingly ;  "  perhaps  they  will  find  her  yet.  I'll  go  over  to 
Judestown  myself,  and  ship  along  with  the  rest.  We'll 
scour  the  whole  coast ;  so  that  if  she's  above  water  anywhere, 
we  must  find  her." 

"  I'll  gOj  too.  Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs, 
with  more  alacrity  than  he  usually  betrayed ;  "  that  is,  if 
you  think  there  is  no  danger  with  them  smugglers.  You 
don't  think  there  is  any  danger,  do  you.  Admiral  Havenful  ?  " 

"  Blame  them — yes  1  "  roared  the  admiral,  fiercely.  "  I 
wish  to  the  Lord  Harry  I  could  only  come  across  some  of 
them  1  I'll  be  blowed  if  I  wouldn't  give  them  the  confounded- 
est  keel-hauling  they  ever  got  in  their  lives  I  If  you  are  afraid, 
Orlando  Toosypegs,"  said  the  admiral,  facing  round  with 
savage  abruptness,  "  stay  at  hom.e  !  Any  man  that  wouldn't 
volunteer  in  a  case  like  this,  ought  to  be  swung  to  ^he  yard- 
arm  and  left  to  feed  the  crows.  You  would  h^i  a  blue 
lookout  for  the  commander  of  a  privateer — wouldn't 
you  ?  " 

"  Admiral  Havenful,"  said  Mr,  Toosypegs,  abashed  and 
rather  terrified  by  this  outburst,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  and  I 
ain't  the  least  afraid.  I'll  go  with  you,  and  do  my  best  to 
help  you  to  keel-haul  the  smugglers,  whatever  that  may  be. 
Miss  Minnie,  good-by.  Don't  take  on  about  it,  because 
we'll  be  sure  to  find  Miss  Pet  and  bring  her  home.  I  dare 
say  the  smugglers  will  give  her  up,  if  they're  onh-  asked 
politely." 

The  admiral  heard  this  comforting  assurance  with  a  snort 
of  unspeakable  contempt,  and  then  waddled  out;  and 
groaning  bodily  and  mentally,  mounted  Ringbone,  and  ac- 
companied by  Mr.  Toosypegs,  set  out  at  the  rate  of  half  a 
knot  an  hour  to  Judestown. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  day,  Erminie  was  left  alone, 
half  wild  with  alternate  hope,  terror,  anxiety,  expectation. 
Her  busy  fingers,  for  a  wonder,  were  idle  now,  as  she  passed 
continually  in  and  out,  watching,  with  feverish  impatience, 
the  forest  road,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  some  one  who  could 
give  her  some  news  of  how  the  search  progressed. 


338 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


0    I 


But  night  came,  and  no  messenger  had  arrived  to  relieve  her 
torturmg  anxiety. 

It  was  a  sultry,  star-lit  night.  Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred 
the  motionJess  leaves  of  the  forest  trees,  and  the  clear  chirp 
of  the  katy-did  and  lonely  cry  of  the  whippoorwill  alone  broke 
the  oppressive  silence.  Down  on  the  shore  below,  she  cculd 
faintly  hear  the  dreary  murmur  of  the  waves  as  they  sighed 
softly  to  the  shore;  and  at  long  intervals  the  wild,  piefcing 
cry  of  some  sea-bird  would  resound  about  all,  as  it  skimmed 
wildly  across  the  dark,  restless  deep.  The  wide,  lonesome 
heath  was  as  silent  as  the  grave  ;  and  the  long  line  of  cherrv- 

'ri'^  wl  f  "o"^"^  '^°"^  °^^''  ^^  ^'■^"^  the  parlor-windows 
of  he  White  Squall  was  not  visible  to-night— the  drearv 
darkness  betokening  its  master  was  away.  The  forest  lav 
wrapped  in  somber  gloom,  looming  up,  like  some  huge, 
dark  shadow,  in  the  light  of  the  solemn,  beautiful  stars. 

All  withm  the  cottage  was  silent,  too.  Ketura  had  long 
ago  retired  and  the  negress,  Lucy,  was  sleeping  that  deep, 
death-like  sleep  peculiar  to  her  race. 

Standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  vine-shaded  porch,  Erminie 
watched  with  restless  impatience  for  the  return  of  some  one 
from  Judestown-her  whole  thought  of  Pet  and  her  prob- 
able fate  Unceasingly  she  reproached  herself  for  having 
allowed  her  to  depart  at  all  that  night ;  never  pausing  to  re- 
flect how  little  Pet  would  have  minded  her  entreaties  to  stav 
when  she  took  it  into  her  willful  little  head  to  go 

The  clock  struck  nine,  and  then  ten ;  and  still  no  one 
came. 

Half-despairing  of  their  return  that  night,  Erminie  was 
about  to  go  in,  when  the  thunder  of  horses' hoofs  coming 
through  the  forest  road  arrested  her  steps. 

The  next  moment  horse  rnd  rider  came  dashing  at  a  mad 

prSached  "^  ^°  '^^  ^^^^'  ^""^  ^^^  ^^^^^^  °^  ^"^  ^P" 

"  Oh,  Ray,  is  there  any  news  of  her  ?  Is  she  found  ?  " 
eagerly  exclaimed  Erminie. 

"No;  nor  is  she  likely  to  be  as  far  as  I  can  see,"  said 
Ray,  gloomily.  "  Not  the  slightest  trace  of  her  has  been 
found,  though  the  whole  beach  has  been  searched,  from  one 

for  .1''  "^"i!!      ;.    '  ^^^  ^!^''''  ^'"^^^  '^  "P  "°^'  ^"^  gone  home 
for  to-night.     Ranty  and  the  admiral  stay  in  Judestown  all 


m 


J 


.^mmimmmmmt 


'wmiHau^WI 


V. 

i  to  relieve  her 

I  of  air  stirred 
he  clear  chirp 

II  alone  broke 
low,  she  cculd 
}  they  sighed 
wild,  piercing 
is  it  skimmed 
ide,  lonesome 
line  of  cherry- 
irlor-windows 
—the  dreary 
'he  forest  lay 

some  huge, 
'ul  stars, 
ura  had  long 
\g  that  deep, 

)rch,  Erminie 
of  some  one 
nd  her  prob- 
f  for  having 
ausing  to  re- 
!aties  to  stay 

D. 

still  no  one 

i^rminie   was 
>ofs  coming 

ig  at  a  mad, 
oflF  and   ap- 

tie  found  ? " 

1  see,"  said 
r  has  been 
d,  from  one 
I  gone  home 
destown  all 


FACE  TO  FACE. 


339 


night,  and  the  hunt  is  to  be  resumed  to-morrow,  with  the 
same  success,  I  suppose.  They  are  mad — worse  than  mad — 
to  think  they  will  ever  see  her  again." 

He  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  leaned  his  head  on  his 
hand,  while  his  thick,  jet-black  hair  fell  heavily  over  his 
face. 

Something  in  his  look,  tone,  and  attitude  awed  and  stilled 
Erminie  into  silence.  Though  her  own  gentle  heart  seemed 
bursting  with  grief,  there  was  a  depth  of  passionate  despair  in 
his  that  repressed  all  outward  sobs  and  tears.  In  silence 
they  remained  for  a  while,  she  silently  watching  him,  and 
trying  to  choke  back  her  sobs ;  and  then,  going  over,  she 
touched  him  gently  on  the  arm,  and  said : 

"  Dear  Ray,  let  me  get  you  some  supper  ;  you  have  tasted 
nothing  since  early  this  morning." 

"  Supper  1  Do  you  think  I  could  eat,  now  !* "  he  cried, 
with  fierce  impatience.     '' I  do  not  want  any.     Go!" 

"  Dear  Day,  do  not  look  and  speak  so  strangely.  Per- 
haps you  will  find  her  to-morrow." 

"  Perhars — perhaps  1  When  a  man  has  lost  all  he  loves 
in  the  world,  there  is  a  great  consolation  in  a  cool  *  perhaps 
he  may  find  it  again.'  Do  you  think  those  hell-hounds  would 
spare  her  a  moment,  once  they  got  her  in  their  power  I  Oh, 
Petronilla — bright,  beautiful  Petronilla !  lost,  lost,  forever  !  " 

"  Ray,  Ray  1 "  exclaimed  Erminie,  in  low,  terrified  tones, 
as  a  new  light  broke  upon  her,  "  did  you  love  Petronilla  ?  " 

"  Love  ?  "  he  cried,  with  passionate  fierceness,  starting  up 
and  shaking  back  his  thick,  dark  hair.  "  Yes ;  I  loved  her 
with  a  love  that  you  with  your  gentl  >  nature  and  calmly- 
beating  heart  can  never  dream  of.  ^  loved  her  as  only 
those  can  love  whose  veins,  like  mine,  run  fire  instead  of 
blood.  Now  that  she  is  forever  lost  to  me,  I  may  confess; 
what  no  living  mortal  would  ever  have  discovered  else.  Yes ; 
I  loved  her  I  What  do  you  think  of  my  presumption,  little 
sister?  I,  the  beggared  grandson  of  a  despised  gipsy, 
educated  by  the  bounty  of  her  uncle,  dared  to  lift  my  eyes 
to  this  heiress,  beauty  and  belle — this  proud  daughter  of  a 
prouder  father.  Loved  her  ?  Yes ;  beyond  the  power  of 
words  to  tell  I  " 

One  white  arm  was  around  his  neck,  and  Erminie's  soft, 
pitying  lips  were  pressed  to  his  forehead  of  flame.     She  did 


S«r 


'^'  iimwii     »i 


340 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


}i  ' 


,^i* 


notspea^— no  words  were  needed;  that  silent  caress  be- 
spoke  her  deep  sympathy. 

He  sat  still  and  silent  for  a  moment ;  and  then  he  started  up 
and  seized  his  hat  to  go. 

;'  Are  you  going  out  again,  Ray }  "  asked  Erminie,  sur- 
prised and  uneasy. 

"  Yes ;  for  an  hour  or  so.     I  cannot  stay  here,  with  this 
fever  fire  in  heart  and  brain." 

He  walked  rapidly  away  from  the  cottage,  and,  as  if  in- 
voluntarily,  his  steps  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  shore 
Right  over  the  shore,  in  one  place,  the  rocks  projected  in  a 
sort  of  shelf  not  more  than  five  feet  from  the  ground.  Un- 
derneath they  went  in  abruptly,  and  thus  a  sort  of  natural 
roof  was  formed ;  and  the  sheltered  place  below  had  been 
the  favorite  play-ground  of  his  boyhood. 

Up  and  down  this  ledge  he  paced,  now,  absorbed  in  his 
own  bitter  thoughts,  and  totally  unheeding  the  flight  of 
tirne.  One  hour,  two,  three  passed  ;  and  still  he  remained, 
thinking  of  the  lost  c  le. 

Suddenly  he  paused.  Did  his  ears  deceive  him,  or  did 
he  hear  voices  underneath.  His  own  steps  were  muffled  by 
the  velvety  carpet  of  moss  and  grass  that  covered  the  place 
and  he  walked  to  the  outer  edge  and  listened  intently.  Yes  ' 
there  were  voices  underneath,  talking  in  low,  cautious  tones! 
His  heart  gave  a  great  throb,  and  he  got  down  on  his  hands 
and  knees  and  peered  for  one  moment  over  the  cliff  Right 
beneath  were  some  half-dozen  rough,  uncouth-looking  fellows 
m  the  garb  of  sailors,  and  one  of  them.  Black  Bart,  he  re^ 
membered  to  have  often  seen  in  Judestown.  Had  he  dis- 
covered the  smugglers'  haunt  at  last  ? 

^    Laying  his  head  close  to  the  ground,  hv  could  catch,  at 
mtervals,  this  conversation  : 

"  Yes ;  he's  gone  for  good  ;  cleared  out  when  he  found  he 
must  be  discovered.  What  a  pretty  mess  you  made  out  of 
It,  Bart,  taking  the  wrong  gal,  after  all,"  said  one  of  them 

"  Well,  it  wasn't  my  fault,"  growled  Black  Bart.  '<  How 
was  I  to  know  one  from  t'other  ?  Serves  the  old  sinner 
right,  too,  to  get  taken  in.  Curse  Garnet  1  This  comes  of 
trusting  these  infernal  land-sharks." 

_"  What  a  beautiful  hunt  they  had  over  the  beach  to-day  1  " 
said  another,  with  a  low  chuckle.     "They'll  be   at  it  to- 


FATHER  AND  SON. 


341 


t  caress  be* 

he  started  up 

Erminie,  sur- 

re,  with  this 

nd,  as  if  in- 
f  the  shore, 
ejected  in  a 
ound.  Un- 
;  of  natural 
iv  had  been 

irbed  in  his 
le  fliglit  of 
fi  remained, 

lim,  or  did 
muffled  by 
i  the  place, 
ntly.  Yes ; 
tious  tones, 
n  his  hands 
liff.  Right 
ing  fellows, 
Bart,  he  re- 
fad  he  dis- 

Id  catch,  at 

le  found  he 
lade  out  of 
le  of  them, 
rt.  "  How 
old  sinner 
s  comes  of 

h  to-day  1 " 
e  at  it  to- 


morrow, too,  and  have  their  labor  for  their  pains.  Well, 
cap'n,  does  the  gal  still  stick  to  her  story  that  she  ain't  the 
one  she  ought  to  be  ?  " 

The  reply  to  this  was  given  in  so  low  a  tone  that  Ray 
could  not  hear  it,  and  in  his  intense  eagerness  he  leaned 
further  over  to  listen.  But,  as  he  did  so,  he  lost  his  balance. 
He  strove  to  save  himself,  but  in  vain  ;  over  he  must  go ; 
and  seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  took  a  flying  leap, 
and  landed  right  in  the  midst  of  the  astounded  freebooters  1 

WiMi  interjections  of  surprise  and  alarm,  half  a  dozen 
bright  blades  instantly  flashed  in  the  moonlight ;  but  ere  any 
violence  could  be  offered,  the  tall  form  of  the  outlaw  chief 
interposed  between  them,  and  father  and  son  stood  face  to 
face! 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


FATHER  AND  SON. 


"  When  lovers  meet  in  adverse  hour, 
'  Tis  like  a  sun-glimpse  through  a  shower — 
A  watery  ray,  an  instant  seen, 
Then  darkly-closing  clouds  between." 

— SCOTT. 

Silently  they  confronted  each  other — those  two,  so  nearly 
connected — so  long  separated — so  strangely  encountered 
now.  Did  no  "  still,  small,"  inward  voice  whisper  to  each 
that  they  were  father  and  son  ?  Was  the  voice  of  Nature 
silent,  that  they  should  gaze  upon  each  other  as  strangers 
gaze  ? 

Yes,  even  so ;  for  although  the  outlaw  chief  started  for  a 
moment  to  see  before  him  the  living  embodiment  of  himself 
at  the  same  age,  the  emotion  passed  in  a  moment,  and  the 
strange  resemblance  was  set  down  to  one  of  those  accidental 
likenesses  that  so  often  surprise  us,  and  which  cannot  be 
accounted  for.     Ray,  too,  fancied  this  dark,  daring,  reckless- 

lookino-     rhie^ta'"     rpsfmblfd     hirnsplf     sonipwha*"  '    bu*"    ♦fr^ 

passing  thought  had  even  less  effect  upon  him  than  it  had 
on  the  other. 


f^l 


343 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


,1  ^ 


The  men,  still  grasping  their  swords,  had  encircled  Ray, 
and  were  glaring  upon  him  with  darkly-threatening  eyes,  as 
he  stood  boldly  erect,  and  undauntedly  confronting  the 
smuggler  chief. 

''  Well,"  said  that  personage,  at  last,  breaking  the  silence, 
and  calmly  surveying  the  intruder  from  head  to  foot,  "  who  the 
foul  fiend  are  you,  young  man,  that  you  come  tumbling  from 
the  clouds  among  us  in  this  fashion  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  revenue  spy.  Let  us  pitch  him  in  the  river 
cap'n  I  "  said  Black  Bart. 

"  Silence,  sir  I  Come,  my  good  youth,  answer :  What  is 
your  business  here  ?  " 

"  My  business  is,  to  discover  the  young  lady  you  have  so 
basely  abducted.  If  you  are  the  leader  of  this  gang  of 
cut-throats,  I  demand  to  be  instantly  informed  where  she  is  I  " 
said  Ray,  determined  to  put  a  boldfroi.t  on  the  matter  since 
he  was  in  for  it. 

"  Whew-w  1  "  whistled  the  captain,  while  the  men  set  up  an 
insolent  laugh.  '«  For  coolness  and  effrontery,  that  modest 
denjand  cannot  be  easily  beat.     And  what  if  we  refuse,  young 

"  Your  refusal  will  not  matter  much,  since  to-morrow  your 
retreat  will  assuredly  be  discovered,  and  then  you  will  every 
one  meet  the  doom  your  diabolical  actions  deserve  I  " 

"  And  what  may  that  be,  most  candid  youth  ?  "  said  the 
smuggler  chief,  with  a  sneer. 

''Hanging!  "  siid  Ray,  boldly;  "  a  fate  too  good  for 
villains  base  enough  to  forcibly  carry  off  a  helpless  young 

With  low,  but  passionate  imprecations  of  rage,  the  outlaws 
closed  around  Ray ;  and  his  mortal  career  might  have  ended 
then  and  there,  but  that  the  captain  a  second  time  in- 
terfered. 

"  Back,  men  I  "  he  said,  authoritatively.  «  Let  there  be 
no  bloodshed  to-night.  Do  you  not  know  there  are  two 
places  where  a  man  ought  to  speak  without  interruption  ?— in 
the  pulpit  and  on  the  gallows.  This  foolhardy  fellow  is  as 
completely  in  our  power  as  though  he  were  swingin-  in 
mid-air,  so  he  can  speak  with  impunity.  Prav  oroceedl'mv 
dear  sir.  Your  conversation  is  mighty  edifying  and  interest- 
ing.   So,  hanging  is  too  good  for  some  of  us,  eh  ?     Now,  what 


.  ^m*mmvt.m*mmmii^>::-yi 


ncircled  Ray, 
;ning  eyes,  as 
nfronting  the 

g  the  silence, 
3ot, "  who  the 
ambling  from 

in  the  river, 

ver :   WJiat  is 

you  have  so 
this  gang  of 
Kere  she  is  1  " 

matter  since 

len  set  up  an 

that  modest 

efuse,  young 

morrow  your 
)u  will  every 
•ve  1  " 
?  "  said  the 

00  good  for 
Ipless  young 

,  the  outlaws 

have  ended 

>nd  time  in- 

iCt  there  be 
ere  are  two 
uption  ? — in 
fellow  is  as 
swinging  in 
proceed,  rnv 
md  interest- 
Now,  what 


FATHER  AND  SON. 


343 


would  you  recommend  to  be  done  with  us  supposing  you  were 
our  jud^e  ?  " 

"  Burning  at  the  stake,  perhaps  I  "  suggested  Black  Bart ; 
"  and  after  that  to  be  hung,  drawn  and  quartered  I  " 

"  This  is  no  time  for  fooling  I  "  exclaimed  Ray,  impetuously. 
"  I  demand  to  be  instantly  led  to  Miss  Lawless,  wherever 
she  may  be  I  " 

"  A  demand  I  am  most  happy  to  comply  with,"  said  Cap- 
tain Reginald.  "  I  always  do  like  to  oblige  my  guests  when 
1  can.     This  way,  my  young  sir.     But  just  keep  your  eye  on 


^1 


yoii 


-.  ?. 


-and  see  that  he  does  not   give  you   the 
"  Hadn't  I  better  bind  and 


him — wil 

Slip." 

"  Ay,  ay,  cnp'n,  "  said   Bart. 
blindfold  him  ?  " 

"  No,  it  will  be  needless,  as  in  all  probability  he  will  never 
set  foot  on  this  shore  again." 

"  1  understand  :  '  Dead  men  tell  no  tales  I  '  All  right, 
cap'n,  "  said  Black  Bart  with  ii  demoniacal  laugh,  as  the 
whole  party,  with  their  prisoner  in  their  midst,  started 
along  the  beach  after  the  captain. 

The  cheering  assurance  that  his  fate  was  sealed  did  not 
in  the  slightest  degree  intimidate  Ray  as  he  walked  along, 
with  his  fine  form  erect,  his  princely  head  thrown  back,  his 
full,  falcon  eye,  with  its  clear,   steady  gaze,  making  the  in- 
solent stare  of  the  outlaws  fall.     One  thought  was  upper- 
most in  his  heart,  thrilling  through  every  nerve,  throbbing 
in   every    pulse;    he  was  drawing   near  Petronilla — would 
soon  meet  her,  speak  to  her,  comfort  her  in  her  captivity. 
What  pair  of  pantaloons  over  the  innocent  and   unsuscepti- 
ble age  of  seven  has  not  felt  a  decidedly  queer  sensation 
under  his  left  ribs  when  about  to  meet  the  woman  he  loves  ? 
And  if  he  fancied  her  pining  away  in  '•  durance  vile,"  how 
much   his   eagerness   to  meet,  to   comfort,  to  console  her 
would  be  increased  1     At  least,  it  is  to  be  hoped  it  would ; 
and  it  had  at  least  that  effect  on  Ray  Germaine,  who,  rapid- 
ly as  they  walked,  in  his  burning   impatience  it  seemeo  as 
though  they  were  going  at  a  snail's  pace.     Even  before  him 
he  beheld  Pet,  locked  up  in    ome  desolate   prison,  weeping 
as  if  her  heart  would  break,  and  calling  on   her  friends  to 
save  her.     Little  did  he  dream  that  at  that  very  moment  she 
was  rolling  over  on  the  floor  of  her  room,  in  convulsions  of 


344 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


M  ' 


laughter  at  the  mistake  Black  Bart  had  made,  and  the  con- 
sequent rage  its  discovery  had  thrown  that  worthy  into. 

For  upward  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  they  walked  along  the 
long,  sandy,  slippery  beach,  and  then  they  suddenly  diverged, 
and  turning  an  abrupt  angle  among  the  rocks,  they  came  to 
a  part  of  the  hill  overgrown  with  stunted  spruce  and   cedar 
bushes.     It  was  a  bleak,  lonely  place,  little  frequented   and 
with  no  sign  of  anything  like  a  hut,  or  cavern,  or  habitation, 
far  or  near.     But  here  the  whole  party  came  to  a  simultane- 
ous halt ;  and  the  smuggler-chief,  putting  his  fingers  to  his 
lips,  gave  a  long,  loud,  sharp  whistle.     While  Ray  watched 
these  proceedings  with  intense  interest,  part  of  the  thick  un- 
derbrush  seemed  to  move ;  a  huge  rock  was  violently    dis- 
lodged from  its  place,  and  a  narrow,  low  opening,  that  it 
seemed  hardly  possible  to  enter,  save  on  one's  hands  and 
knees,  was  revealed.     The  narrow  chasm  had  evi(h  ntly,  at 
some  remote  period,  been  made  by  a  convulsion  of  Nature, 
but  Art  had  since   been   employed  to  widen,  enlarge,  and 
conceal  it.     The  huge  rock  was  made  to  fit  securely,  and 
could  only  be  opened  from  within,  thus  defying  detection 
Those  in  search  of  Pet  that  day  had  passed  over  the  spot  a 
dozen  times,  without  dreaming  in  •  ,e  most  remote  way  that 
there  could  be  an  opening  concealed  among  the  apparently- 
solid  rocks.  "^ 

Captain  Reginald  turned  to  the  utterly-astonished  Ray- 
mond, and  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment,  with  a  peculiar  smile 
of  sarcastic  triumph.  Then  stooping  his  tall  body,  he  passed 
through  the  opening,  and  disappeared  in  the  seemingly  in- 
terminable darkness  beyond. 

"  You  go  next,"  said  Black  Bart,  to  Ray. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  young  man  obeyed  • 
and  having  entered  the  aperture,  found  himself  in  the  same 
long,  narrow,  dark  passage  into  which  Garnet  had  borne  Pet 
the  evening  before.  Ray  descended  the  narrow,  steep  steps 
faintly  illuminated  by  the  dim  rays  of  a  dark-lantern  held 
by  the  man  who  admitted  them  ;  and  following  the  smuggler- 
captain  through  the  long,  rocky  passage,  entered,  at  last,  the 
large  outer-room— the  rendezvous  of  the  outlaws. 

The  roughly-dressed,  rougher-looking  men  lay,  or  sat, 
scattcrcu  about  m  every  direction,  some  asleep  on  the  floor, 
some  talking  in  low  tones,  and  others  amusing  themselves 


!  If 


^-'''^''HP*''****^piiK 


01 


FATHER  AND  SON. 


345 


as  they  pleased.  In  a  remote  corner  sat  the  woman  Mar- 
guerite, lier  ariiis  dropped  on  a  litt'  table,  her  head  lying 
on  them,  as  if  asleep.  Her  presence  accounted  for  the  un- 
uijual  stillness  of  the  men. 

She  was  not  ;'ileep,  however.  As  the  new-comers  entered, 
she  lifted  her  head  quickly,  and  after  a  fleeting  glance  at 
her  husband,  fixed  her  eyes  steadfastly  on  the  stranger. 
Mis  strange  resemblance  to  her  husband  was  the  first  thing 
to  strike  her.  She  half  started  up,  dashed  back  her  wild, 
disheveled  bl.ack  hair,  and  gazed  upon  him  with  a  sharp, 
suspicious  look.  The  men,  too,  stopped  in  their  customary 
avocations  to  look  at  the  new-comer,  and  scan  hi. a  from 
head  to  foot  with  inquiring  eyes.  Ray's  dark,  flashing  eyes 
feailessly  encountered  theirs,  as  he  glanced  vainly  around 
the  room  in  search  of  Pet. 

"  Another  prisoner,  my  good  lads,"  said  Captain  Regi- 
nald, as  he  entered. 

"  Who  is  he,  captain  ?  who  is  he  ? "  chorused  half  a  do7en 
voices  together 

"His  nam  ;  I  ha-vj  not  yet  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing. 
Seeing  us  ui  drt  the  j  ?cks,  and  being  of  an  inquiring  spirit, 
he  leaped  dc^vr  nmoni  us,  and  without  ceremony,  presented 
himself.  Wisl.  "jr  n  indulge  the  said  spirit  of  inquiry,  I 
persuaded  him  to  accompany  me  here,  and  have  much 
pleasure  in  making  you  acquainted  with  him  now.  He  is 
very  urgent  to  find  out  what  has  become  of  Miss  Lawless : 
and  as  he  is  evidently  a  friend,  perhaps  a  lover  of  hers,  I 
could  do  no  less  than  promise  to  let  him  see  and  console  her 
in  her  captivity." 

This  speech,  which  was  delivered  in  his  customary  half- 
careless,  half-mocking  tone,  was  received  with  a  cheer  and 
a  laugh  by  the  men.  Ray,  flushed  and  irritated,  turned  to 
the  speaker,  and  said,  passionately : 

"  Let  me  see  her,  then  1     W!.5re  is  she  ? " 

"  Easy,  my  dear  young  friend — easy  1  Getting  excited 
and  fierce  never  pays  in  this  world.  You  will  see  the  young 
lady  time  enough." 

At  this  moment,  the  woman  Marguerite  approached,  and 
laying  her  hand  on  her  husband's  arm.  and  fixing  her  sharp 
black  eyes  on  his  face,  pointed  to  Ray,  and  said  something 
in  a  low,  rapid  tone  in  French. 


M 


"wrwrtSTT 


346 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


1 

"Ya-as,"  drawled  Captain  Reginald,  passing  his  hand 
carelessly  over  his  thick,  black  whiskers,  and  looking  indif- 
ferently at  the  young  man.  "  It  is  rather  strange.  I  noticed 
the  resemblajice  myself.     How  is  your  captive  ?  " 

Before  she  could  reply,  the  curtain  was  pushed  aside  ; 
and  with  wide-open  eyes,  flushed  cheeks,  and  wonder,  de- 
light and  incredulity  on  every  feature,  Pet  stood  before 
them.  Ray's  voice  had  reached  her  ear,  and  half-inclined 
to  doubt  the  evidence  of  her  senses,  she  stood  there,  literally 
rooted  to  the  ground.  Yes,  there  he  was — his  own  proud, 
fiery,  handsome  self,  and  forgetting  everything  in  her  de- 
light. Pet  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  sprung  toward  him.  He 
took  a  step  forward,  his  face  flushed  with  many  feelings, 
and  the  next  moment,  for  the  first  time,  Pet  was  held  clasped 
in  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  Ray  !  dear  Ray  I  I  am  so  glad  ! "  exclaimed  Pet, 
scarcely  knowing  what  she  said,  in  her  joy  and  amazement. 
**  Dearest  Ray — my  gracious  !  I  didn't  mean  that ;  but,  oh, 
Ray  1     I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  again  1  " 

"  My  own  Petronilla  1  my  dearest  love  1  "  he  passionately 
exclaimed,  bending  over  her. 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  ever  find  me  out,  Ray,  stowed 
away  here  under  the  earth  ?  "  asked  Pet,  whose  utter  amaze- 
ment at  seeing  him  here  completely  overmastered  every  other 
feeling.  "  Who  told  you  these  fellows  had  carried  me  off  to 
this  black  hole  ?  " 

"  No  one — we  only  suspected  it." 

"  And  you  know,  Ray,  it  was  the  greatest  mistake  all 
through.  They  meant  to  carry  off  Erminie — think  of  that  I — 
and  they  took  me  in  a  mistake.  I  expect  they  are  making  an 
awful  time  about  it  up  in  the  upper  world — ain't  they  ?  I 
suppose  papa's  gone  out  of  his  head  altogether." 

"  Your  father  is  not  at  home,  Petronilla.  Ranty  is  nearly 
distracted." 

"  Ranty  ?  Why,  Ray — my  goodness,  Ray  1  is  Ranty 
home  ?  " 

"  Yes — arrived  late  last  night," 

"  Did  you  ever  1  And  they  had  to  take  and  carry  me  oflE 
such  a  contrary  time,  and  I  wanted  to  see  him  so  much.  Well, 
if  it  3  not  tue  lunniest,  most  diSugreeabie  rmair,  irom  uegin- 
nmg  to  end  1     i  say,  Ray,  how  did  you  find  me  out,  though  ?  " 


.^■j^i|#*»V**y  'Wt-^itr  »;*»r*«W!WBrMi<  WW  rr-i.>t»fa»*#)m^'(it4?i  Whstf 


his  hand 
ng  indif- 
I  noticed 

d  aside  ; 
nder,  de- 
id  before 
f-inclined 
;,  literally 
n  proud, 
I  her  de- 
lim.  He 
feelings, 
d  clasped 

ned  Pet, 

azement. 

but,  oh, 

sionately 

^  stowed 
;r  arnaze- 
ery  other 
me  off  to 


stake  all 
f  that  !— 
laking  an 
they  ?     I 

is  nearly 

is    Ranty 


ry  me  off 
h.     Well, 

jVil   ucgin- 

[hough  ?  " 


FATHER  AND  SON. 


347 


« It  was  all  an  accident.  I  will  tell  you  another  time. 
What  was  the  cause  of  your  being  abducted  this  way.  Pet  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  your  coming  was  an  accident,  mine  was  a  mis- 
take  thought  it  was  your  Erminie,  you  know,  because  I  look 

so  much  like  her,  I  expect.     And  now,  what's  going  to  turn 
up  next  ?     Are  you  going  to  take  me  home  ?  " 

"Hardly,  I  fancy,  "  said  Captain  Reginald,  who,  with  the 
rest,  had  all  this  time  been  watching  them  and  listening, 
half-curious,  half-amused.  "  Mr.  Ray,  if  that  is  his  name, 
will  hardly  get  back  as  easily  as  he  come." 

"Why,  you  hateful  old  brigand!  You  wouldn't  be  so 
ugly  as  to  keep  him  whether  he  wanted  to  or  not  ?  "  said 
Pet,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Sorry  to  disoblige  a  lady,  but  in  this  case,  I  fear  I  must,' 
he  said  bowing  sarcastically. 

Pet,  having  by  this  time  got  over  the  first  shock  of  her 
surprise,  like  all  the  rest,  was  forcibly  struck  with  the 
resemblance  between  the  smuggler-mptain  and  her  handsome 
lover.  Her  bright  eyes  danced,  ior  a  few  seconds,  from 
one  to  another,  and  then  she  burst  out  with : 

"  Well,  now,  if  you  two  don't  look  as  much  alike  as  two 
strung  mackerels,  my  name's  not  Pet.  I  said  all  along,  Ray, 
you  were  his  very  image,  and  W  leave  it  to  ever>'body  in  gen- 
eral if  you  ain't.  If  you  were  only  twenty  years  older,  and 
had  whiskers  sticking  out  from  under  your  chin  like  a  row 
of  shaving-brushes,  you  would  be  as  much  alike  as  a  couple 

of  peas." 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  the  likeness  is  stror'nary  I '  exclaimed 
Black  Bart,  looking  from  one  to  another.  "  You  look  enough 
alike  to  be  his  mother,  cap'n." 

"  Really,  I  feel  flattered  to  resemble  a  young  gentleman 
half  so  handsome,"  said  the  captain,  in  his  customary  tone 
of  careless  mockery,  "  The  resemblance  must  be  very  strik- 
ing, since  it  attracts  the  notice  of  every  one." 

"  I  declare,  it's  real  funny  1 "  said  Pet.  "  Maybe  you  will 
turn  out  to  be  relatives,  by-and-by — who  knows  ?  It  always 
ends  so  in  plays  and  novels,  where  everybody  discovers,  at 
last,  they  are  not  themselves  at  all,  but  somebody  else." 

"  May  I  ask  the  name  of  the  gentleman  whom  I  have  the 
1 i- Qrv,ui^  5     T  UorHb'  tb'nk     Mice   Lawlp^s.   \ve  will 

turn  out  to  be  relatives,  as  I  have  not  one  m  the  wide  world," 


'  c 

Ml! 


'    K'i'**' 


348 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


N  ^ 


said  Captain  Reginald,  with  something  like  a  cloud  settling 
on  his  dark  face. 

"  My  name  is  Raymond  Germaine,"  said  Ray,  coldly. 
"  Germaine  1  "  exclaimed  the  smuggler,  starting  suddenly 
and  pahng  slightly,  "  did  you  say  Germaine  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  what  is  there  extraordinary  in  that  ?"  asked 
Ray,  whose  arm  still  encircled  Pet. 

Captain  Reginald  did  not  reply,  but  paced  abruptly  up  and 
down  the  floor  for  a  few  moments.  All  were  gazing  at  him 
m  surprise ;  but  there  was  fierce  suspicion  in  the  dusky  depths 
of  Marguerite's  black  eyes. 

He  came  back  at  last,  and  resuming  his  former  posture, 
said,  but  no  longer  in  his  cold,  sarcastic  tone : 

"  I  once  knew  a  person  of  that  name,  and  its  utterance 
recalled  strange  memories.  It  is  not  a  very  common  name 
here — may  I  ask  if  you  belong  to  this  place .''  " 

"  No ;  I  am  English  by  birth,  but  I  have  lived  here  since 
a  child." 
"  English!" 

He    started   wildly   again,    and  this   time   looked  at  the 
young  man  in  a  sort  of  terror. 
"  Yes— or  rather,  no ;  for  though  born  in  England,  I  am  not 
nglish.     I  come  of  another  race." 

The  fixed  glance  of  the  smuggler's  eyes  grew  each  moment 
more  nitense,  his  dark  face  paled  and  paled,  until,  contrasting 
with  his  jet-black  hair  and  bread,  it  looked  ghastly.     His 
breath  came  quick  and  short  as  he  almost  gasped  : 
"  And  that  race  is — " 

"  The  gipsy  I  Yes,  I  am  of  the  degraded  gipsy  race," 
exclaimed  Ray,  with  a  sort  of  fierce  pride,  as  though  he 
dared  and  defied  the  world  to  despise  him  for  that. 

The  smuggler-captain  reeled  as  though  some  one  had 
struck  him  a  blow,  and  grasping  Ray  by  the  arm,  he  exclaimed, 
in  a  low,  husky  whisper : 

"  Tell  me  who  brought  you  here.  You  were  a  child,  you 
say,  when  you  left  England— who  had  charge  of  you  ?  " 

"My  grandmother— a  gipsy!  What  in  the  name  of  heaven^ 
sir,  IS  all  this  to  you  ?"  exclaimed  Ray,  like  the  rest  complete^ 
ly  astounded  by  this  strange  emotion. 

"  Her  name!"  said  the  outlaw,  hoarsely,  unheeding  his 
question  and  the  wonder  of  the  rest.  '  ° 


,i(i|a^iMitMtteru.->l3(ttHia*»JMft'»>-qt*r.- 


FATHER  AND  SON. 


349 


««  Among  her  tribe  she  was  known  as  the  gipsy-queen, 

Ketura  " 

"  Tust  God  i"  exclaimed  the  smuggler-chief,  as  his  grasp 
relaxed  and  with  a  face  perfectly  colorless,  he  stood  like  one 

suddenly  turned  to  stone.  .         x  *u-    > ..  e  ;^ 

"  Sir  what  under  heaven  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  said 
the  bewildered  Ray,  while  the  rest  looked  on  almost  speech- 
less with  astonishment. 

There  was  no  reply.  The  outlaw  had  leaned  his  arm  on 
a  sort  of  mantel,  and,  with  his  head  dropped  upon  it,  stood 
like  one  stunned  by  some  mighty  blow.     AH  were  white  and 

mute  with  wonder,  u  t.  u  •*» 

He  lifted  his  head  at  last,  and  they  started  to  behold  its 
dreadful  ghastliness.  His  eyes  for  some  moments  were 
fixed  in  a  long,  inexplicable  gaze  on  the  surprised  face  of 
Ray,  then,  in  the  same  low,  hoarse  tone,  he  asked :  ^  ^^ 

"  And   she,  your    grandmother— does   she   still  livei 

'«  Yes." 

"  Where  '"'  .    „ 

"  In  Old  Barrens  Cottage;  but  she  is  a  helpless  paralytic. 

"  So  near,  so  near !  and  I  never  knew  it.  Great  Heaven  1 
how  wonderful  is  thy  dispensations !  "  he  groaned. 

'<  Is  it  possible  you  knew  her  ?"  asked  the  bewildered  Ray. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  her,"  he  replied,  slowly.  "  fell  me,  did 
she  ever  speak  to  you  of  your  father  ? '' 

Ray  .  brow  darkened,  and  his  eyes  filled  with  a  dusky  fire. 

u  She    did— often.     My    father  was  drowned  !  He  was 

branded,  tried,  convicted,  and  condemned  for  the  guilt  of 

anothar.     His  day  of  retribution  is  to  come  yet .     Enough  ot 

this— I  cannot  understand  what  possible  interest  all  this  can 

have  for  you."  ,yr-  ,  t  o,„1pcc 

"  You  will  soon  learn,  Come  with  me;  Miss  Lawless, 
remain  with  my  wife  until  my  return.  This  way,  young  man, 
said  the  outlaw,  turning  to  the  inner  apartment  and  mo- 
tioning the  other  to  precede  him.  _  .  u  u  *  ^o« 
The  astonished  Ray  did  so,  and  the  curtam  fell  between 
the  wonder-struck  assembly  outside  and  the  twain  within. 


350  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


ii 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE   outlaw's    story. 

"  They  did  not  know  how  hate  can  burn 
In  hearts  once  changed  from  soft  to  stem 
Nor  all  the  false  and  fatal  zeal 
The  convert  of  revenge  can  feel." 

— Byropc. 

"Be  seated,"  said  the   outlaw,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

Silent  and  wondering,  Ray  obeyed. 

His  strange  companion  walked  across  the  room,  and  for 
some  moments  stood  with  knit  brows  and  downcast  eyes 
like  one  absorbed  in  painful  thought.  Then  he  began  pacing 
up  and  down,  while  Ray  watched  him,  inwardly  wondering 
whether  this  half-smuggler,  half-pirate  captain  was  quite  rieht 
m  his  mind.  ^ 

He  stopped,  at  last,  in  his  quick,  excited  walk  as  rapidly 
as  he  had  commenced,  and  facing  round  to  where  Rav  sat 
demanded :  ^       ' 

"  Why  did  my— this  gipsy,  Ketura,  leave  England  ?  " 
'  I  do  not  know— -she  never  told  me,"  replied  Ray. 
"Old    Earl  De  Courcy   died    shortly  after  I,  her  son,  left 

England— perhaps    she   was    instrumental   in  his  death  and 

was  obliged  to  fly." 

''  Of  that  I  know  nothing,"  said  Ray,  impatiently.  "  What 
has  all  this  to  do  with  the  revelations  you  are  to  make  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  perhaps ;  but  I  wish  my  question  answ'ered. 
You  say  she  resides  in  Old  Barrens  cottaee  ? " 

"  Yes."  ^ 

"  You  live  there  too,  with  her,  of  course  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  If  she  is,  as  you  say,  a  helpless  paralytic,  how  has  she 
contrived  to  support  and  educate  vnu— f«r  t  r,^..^^:..^  .._„ 
are  educated  ?"  ^ 


.^irti^».*rtw«#^»,^K«<iMrt»*i»iB^_,^ . 


THE  OUTLAW'S  STORY. 


351 


)£  his  hand. 

5m,  and  for 
'ncast  eyes, 
:gan  pacing 
wondering 
quite  right 

:  as  rapidly 
re  Ray  sat, 

and  ? " 
lay. 

er  son,  left 
death  and 

'.     "  What 
make?  " 
answered. 


)w  has  she 


r"OU 


"  It  was  not  she  who  did  it.  I  am  indebted  for  my 
education  to  the  kindness  of  an  old  gentleman  who  resides 
near  us,"  said  Ray,  flushing  and  biting  his  lip  till  it  was 
bloodless. 

"  Who  attends  to  her  now,  in  her  helplessness  ?" 

"  Erminie  and  her  servant." 

"  Erminie  who  ?  Oh,  I  remember  ;  Miss  Lawless  spoke  of 
some  Erminie  Germaine,  who  was  to  have  been  brought 
here  instead  of  her.     Who  is  this  Erminie  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell.  My  grandmother  brought  us  from  England 
together — she  was  a  mere  infant,  then." 

"  Perhaps  she  is  your  sister  ?  " 

"  No ;  her  very  looks  forbid  such  a  supposition.  That 
there  is  no  gipsy  blood  in  her  veins,  I  am  confident." 

"  And  gipsy  Ketura  brought  her  from  England  ?  Strange 
— strange  1  Who  can  she  be  ?  "  said  the  outlaw,  musingly. 
"  She  has  often  spoken  to  you  of  the  De  Courcy  family,  no 
doubt ! " 

"  Yes,  often." 

"  Did  she  tell  you  Lord  Ernest  Villiers  married  Lady 
Maude  Percy  ?  " 

"She  did." 

"  Do  you  know  if  they  had  any  children  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know.'" 

"  She  never  told  you  ?  " 

•'  Never,"  said  Ray,  wondering  where  this  "  Catechism  of 
Perseverance  "  was  to  end. 

"  Strange,  strange — very  strange  1 "  said  the  outlaw,  pac- 
ing up  and  down,  with  brows  knit  in  deep  thought.  "  And 
so  you  are  determined  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  your  father, 
young  man  ?  "  he  said,  after  a  pause  stopping  1  efore  him  again. 

"  Yes,  Heaven  helping  me,  I  will  1  "  exclaimed  Ray,  fierce- 

"  Heaven  ? "  said  the  outlaw,  with  his  old  sneer.  "  It  is 
the  first  time  I  ever  heard  Heaven  aided  revenge  ;  Satan 
helping  you,  you  mean.  And  how  is  this  revenge  to  be  ac- 
complished ? " 

"  Time  will  tell,"  said  Ray,  impatiently.  "  It  cannot  con- 
cern you  in  anyway,  Captain  Reginald ;  and  on  this  subject 
you  need  asic  me  no  niore  questions,  lor  a  wui  not  answer 
them." 


.Ju'iLH    J,   wFtct^ 


352 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


0 


i  i 


I  ■, 


1 

I 

"  As  you  please,"  said  he,  with  a  strange  smile.  "  You 
have  inlierited  the  fiery,  passionate  spirit  of  your  race,  I  see. 
YcHir  father  is,  you  say,  drowned  .^  " 

'•  Yes— yt.'S  !  To  what  end  are  all  these  questions  >  " 

'•  Patience,  Mr.  Germaine ;  I  will  come  to  that  presently. 
DLl  your  grandmother  ever  speak  to  you  of  your  mother  ?  " 

'•  Very  little,"  said  Ray,  in  a  softer  tone.  "  She  told  me 
she  never  saw  her,  but  that  she  was  a  lady  of  rank.  That, 
however,  I  am  inclined  to  doubt." 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"Because  my  father  was  a  gipsy.  iVo  lady  of  rnrk, 
knowing  it,  would  have  anything  to  do  nitli  one  of  his  rliss. 
Proud  England's  proud  oaughtcrs  would  not  male  witii  de- 
spised gipsies." 

A  streak  of  fiery  red  darted  for  a  moment  across  the 
dark  face  of  G':]  tain  Reginald,  and  then  passed  away,  leav- 
ing it  whiter  th.ui  before. 

"  Love  levels  all  distincticns,  young  sir," he  said,  haughti- 
ly. "If  she  lovca  him  would  not  that  be  sufficient  to 
break  tl.rough  all  the  cobweb  barriers  of  rn)k  ;  Have  not 
all  social  ties  been  proven,  thousands  of  tiuses,  to  be  more 
fiimsythan  pnper  walls  before  the  irresistible  whirlwind  of 
b'lm-.vjj  love  and  passion?  " 

?.,■  y  mought  of  Pet,  and  his  darl  cheek  flushed  slightly. 
What  a  coiivenient  belief  this  would  be,  dared  he  adopt  it. 
He  loved  her,  and  thrilling  through  his  heart  came  the  con- 
viction that  she  loved  him.  Would  ;he,  too,  break  down 
these  "  paper  walls  "  for  his  sake  ?  \\'ould  she  give  up  all 
the  world  for  him,  as  thousands  had  done  before,  according 
to  this  strange  man's  story? 

"  Your  mother  was  a  lady  of  rank— is  a  lady  of  rank,  for 
she  still  lives  1  "  were  the  next  words,  spoken  rapidly  and 
excitedly,  that  aroused  him  from  his  dangerous  reverie. 

"My   mother   lives ?"  exclaimed   Ray,  springing   to    his 

"Yes." 

"  Great  Heaven  !     Where  ? " 

"  In  England,  most  probably." 

"  My  mother  lives  ?     Can  it  be   possible  ?     Who  is  .she  ? 


self.  ^ 


like  one  beside 


mm- 


THE  OUTLAW'S  STORY. 


353 


ile.     "  You 
race,  I  see. 

ms  ?  " 
t  presently. 
■  mother  ?  " 
;ie  told    ine 
nk.     That, 


i  of  rank, 
if  his  «:lass. 
le  with  de- 

across  the 
away,  leav- 

d,  haughti- 
jfRcitnt  to 
3iave  not 
o  be  more 
lirlwind  of 

!d  slightly, 
e  adopt  it. 
le  the  con- 
reak  down 
2;ive  up  all 
according 

i  rank,  for 
ipidly  and 
verie. 
ng   to    his 


lo  is  .she  ? 
:sidc    him- 


"  Lady  Maude  Villiers,  Countess  De  Courcy  1 "  exclaimed 
the  outlaw,  while  his  dark,  fierce  eyes  blazed. 

Ray  stood  for  an  instant  paralyzed  ;  then  an  expression  of 
anger  and  utter  incredulity  flushed  his  face  and  flashed  from 
his  eyes. 

"  My  mother  the  Countess  De  Courcy !  "  he  said,  scorn- 
fully.    "  Do    you  take  me  for  a   fool,  Captain   Reginald  ?  " 

"  Young  man,  before  high  Heaven  I  swear  I  speak  the 
truth  1 "  said  the  outlaw,  solemnly.  "  Did  not  Ketura  tell  you 
the  manner  in  which  your  father's  marriage  was  brought 
about  ?  " 

"  That  he  inveigled  my  mother  into  it  by  some  unlawful 
means  ?  Yes  ;  she  told  me  that.  But,  good  heavens  1  the 
idea  of  it  being  Lady  Maude  Percy  I  Oh,  it  is  absurd,  ridic- 
ulous, incredible,  impossible  I "  exclaimed  Ray,  vehement- 
ly- 

"  It  is  the  truth  I  Reginald  Germaine,  look  me  in  the  face, 
and  see  if  I  am  not  speaking  the  truth," 

Yes ;  no  one  could  look  in  those  dark,  solemn  eyes  and 
doubt  his  words. 

Stunned,  giddy,  bewildered,  Ray  dropped  into  his  seat, 
feeling  as  if  the  room  was  whirling  round  him. 

"  And  you — who,  in  Heaven's  name  are  you,  that  know 
all  this  ? "  he  passionately  asked. 

"  That  I  will  tell  you  presently.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  do 
know  that  I  am  speaking  God's  truth." 

"  Angels  in  heaven  I  the  Countess  De  Courcy  my  mother  ? 
From  whom  did  you  learn  this  ? " 

"  From  your  father." 

"  My  father  is  dead." 

"  Your  father  is  not." 

"  What  ?  " 

"  Your  father  is  not  dead  1 " 

"  Sir,  you  are  either  mad  or  mocking  me  I "  exclaimed 
Ray,  springing  fiercely  to  his  feet. 

"  Young  man,  I  am  neither." 

"  My  father  was  drowned  on  his  way  to  Van  Diemen's 
Land." 

"  Your  father  was  not," 

**  Grf»a^    hpavpne     am   T   cano  nr  mo/J  >  "  ovr-loinrta/^      P  iv    in 

a  loud,   thrilling  tone.     •'  Man,   demon,  devil  I  whoever  you 


^  liiiii--  ■ 

■r*    I" 


TtJi  r 


354 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


M  ' 


are,  was  not  the  transport  wrecked  on  her  way  from  Eng- 
land ?  " 

"  She  was." 

'«  And  all  on  board  lost  ?  " 

"  No." 

"No?" 

"  No ;  I  repeat.  All  were  lost  but  two — your  father 
was  one  of  these." 

"  Heaven  of  heavens  1     And  where  is  my  father  now  ?  " 

"  That,  too,  you  will  learn  anon.  If  you  please,  we  will 
take  things  in  the  order  of  their  occurring.  Listen,  now. 
Sit  down  and  be  calm  ;  getting  excited  will  do  no  good  and 
only  retard  matters.  The  transport  struck  a  sunken  reel 
and  was  wrecked  one  stormy  night.  Your  father  and  one 
sailor  clung  to  a  spar  until  daylight.  By  that  time  all  the  rest 
had  disappeared — were  ingulfed  in  the  ocean  and  perished. 
Captain,  sailors,  convicts  and  all  were  equal,  at  last,  in  the 
boundless  sea.  Before  noon  the  next  day  your  father  and 
the  sailor  were  seen  and  picked  up  by  a  passing  vessel." 

"  Were  you  that  sailor  ?  " 

"  Patience,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Captain  Reginald,  with  a 
slight  smile :  "  who  I  was  does  not  matter  just  now.  The 
ship  was  a  merchantman,  bound  to  a  far-distant  port.  They 
took  us  with  them,  and  over  a  year  elapsed  before  our  sails 
filled  for  '  Merrie  England'  again.  We  were  in  the  South 
Seas — then,  as  now,  infested  with  pirates  ;  and  we  never 
reached  our  island-home.  For  one  day  we  were  chased, 
overtaken,  attacked  and  defeated  by  a  pirate,  and  more 
than  half  our  number  found  graves  in  the  wide  ocean,  where 
many  a  brave  heart  had  grown  cold  before,  and  will  while 
the  great  sea  rolls." 

(<  We  ?  "  broke  in  Ray  at  this  point,  fixing  his  eyes  pier- 
cingly on  the  other's  face — "  we  ?  Then  you  were  the  sailor 
saved  with  my  father  ?  " 

Again  that  fleeting,  quickly-fading.  Inexplicable  smile 
flickered  for  an  instant  round  the  lips  of  the  outlaw,  as  he 
said : 

**  Hasty  and  impatient  yet.  You  must  learn  that  great 
Christian  virtue,  patience,  Mr.  Germaine  ;  one  cannot  well 
get  through  the  world  without  it.  Whether  I  was  the  sailor 
in  question,  or  not,  does  not  matter ;  suffice  it  to  say,  I  was 


i 


THE  OUTI^AW'S  STORY. 


355 


as  the  sailor 


on  board  the  ship  when  she  was  mastered  by  the  pirates.  They 
were  short  of  hands,  and  the  captain  very  graciously  offered 
their  lives  to  those  that  remained,  on  condition  of  their  tak- 
ing an  oafli  of  allegiance  to  him,  and  becoming  rovers  and 
free  lords  of  the  high  seas.  One  or  two  honest  souls  pre- 
ferred the  red  maws  of  hungry  sharks  who  went  swimming 
round  the  ships,  casting  longing  eyes  up  at  us,  asking,  as 
plainly  as  looks  could  speak,  for  another  mouthful  of  an  old 
salt.  They  were  gratified,  too ;  for  three  of  as  good,  brave, 
warm-hearted  fellows  as  ever  climbed  the  rigging  walked  the 
plank  that  hour,  and  found  their  graves  in  the  capacious 
stomachs  of  the  ravenous  devils  of  sharks.  Poor  fellows  I 
if  there  is  such  a  place  as  heaven  they  went  there  straight ; 
for  heaven  is  as  easily  reached  by  water  as  land.  I  suppose 
it  doesn't  matter  whether  people  are  conveyed  to  it  in  can- 
vas shrouds  or  inside  of  sharks." 

"Very  true,"  said  Ray;  "  and  you  joined  the  pirates  to 
aid  my  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  joined  them ;  I  was  reckless  and  so  was  he ; 
we  did  not  care  a  fillip  whether  we  cruised  under  the  black 
flag  or  the  red  cross  of  St.  George.  Life  was  not  of  much 
value  to  him  for  its  own  sake,  but  he  had  to  live  for  sundry 
notions — revenge,  I  fancy,  being  the  strongest.  Then  he 
had  a  child  living — you,  Master  Raymond ;  and  though  con- 
siderable of  a  devil  himself,  he  had  some  human  feeling  left, 
and  the  only  white  spot  in  his  soul  was  his  love  for  you,  for 
his  mother,  and  for  Lady  Maude  Percy,  For  he  loved  her 
then,  loves  her  still,  and  will  while  life  remains  for  him." 

"  And  yet  she  scorned  him,"  said  Ray,  with  flashing  eyes 
and  dilating  nostrils. 

"  Yes,  she  scorned  him,"  said  the  outlaw,  "  no  one  olse 
could  have  done  it  and  live.  But  he  loved  her,  and  though 
he  had  resolved  never  to  see  her  more,  yet  her  memory  and 
that  of  her  child  were  the  only  bright  spots  remaining  in  his 
darkened  life. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Germaine,  he  sailed  along  with  the  pirates. 
They  were  a  motley  assembly,  that  crew — men  from  every 
nation,  whom  crime,  wrong,  revenge,  hatred,  or  any  other 
dark,  dreadful  cause  had  driven  together  here  to  wage 
eternal  war  against  the  world  they  hated,  and  find  their  only 
delight  in  scenes  of  blood,  pillage  and  murder.     There  were 


'j^Mss^AliMi 


"umi  IT. 


IP 


356  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

French,  Spanish,  Italians,  English,  Corsicans,  and  Heaven 
knows  what  besides,  all  jabbering  together  tht  re— raising 
the  most  infernal  commotion  sometimes,  when  they  got 
drinking  and  fighting,  that  ever  shamed  Babel.  The  disci- 
pline was  pretty  strict,  about  as  strict  as  it  could  by  any 
possibility  be  among  such  a  gang,  but  they  would  break  out 
at  times,  and  then  the  diabolical  regions  themselves  might 
have  found  it  hard  to  raise  such  scenes  as  ensued-  There 
were  wor'^-  sit' Avs  than  murder  committed,  sometimes,  by 
these  buidoi.  riejids ;  your  father  never  took  part  in  them, 
though ;  the  m-mory  of  the  past  kept  him  from  that. 
Standing  by  myself,  sometimes,  after  witnessing  things  that 
wo'ild  make  your  blood  curdle,  I  used  to  wonder  if  there  wa^j 
a  deep  enough  pit  in  hell  for  tiiese  fellows.  When  I  was 
young  I  used  to  believe  in  such  a  place.  Mr.  Germaine, 
no  doubt  you  do  nn  mehow  I  got  over  that  and 

sundry  other  pleasant  beliefs  of  late  years.  Though,  when- 
ever I  think  of  what  I  saw  and  heard  on  board  of  that 
cursed  floating  pandemonium,  I  wish,  from  the  bottom  of  my 
soul,  there  was  one  to  grill  them  alive  for  their  deeds  in  the 
flesh." 

"  Did  my  father  ever  take  part  in  these  horrible  scenes  ?  " 
asked  Ray,  with  a  slight  shudder. 

"No,  never  1"  replied  the  outlaw,  emphatically ;" your 
father  had  been  a  gentleman  once,  and  his  whole  nature  re- 
volted against  this  brutality.  No,  he  never  joined  these 
fearful  revels,  but  he  f  .ught  like  the  very  fiend  himself  in 
open  warfare,  especially  against  the  English  hips.  When 
they  were  attacked  he  was  worth  the  whole  pirate  crew  to- 
gether He  fought,  and  cut,  and  clove,  and  slashed  them, 
like  the  devil  and  all  hi  =  angels.  Burning  and  ti  irting 
still  under  the  sense  of  his  mighty  wrongs  and  degrad.ilions, 
he  seemed  determined  to  wipe  out  all  his  sufferings  in  their 
blood.  Many  an  English  heart  grtvv  cold  in  death  to  atone 
for  the  wrong  one  of  their  cou  -ymen  had  done  him.  He 
had  vowed  vengeance  igainst  the  whole  nplion,  and  1  doubt 
wheth  St.  .enanus  himself  kept  a  vow  more  religiously 
both  in  letter  and  spirit. 

"  Well.  Mr.  Germaine,  we  cruised  along  with  these  sea- 
wolves  Iji  comc  four  o  five  mon  '  -:,  .qnd  kept  on  at  our  old 
trade  of  throat-cutting,  plank-walking,  scuttling,  sinking  and 


THE  OUTLAW'S  e  TORY. 


357 


1  Heaven 
_' — raising 

they  got 
rhe  disci- 
d  by  any 
break  out 
ves  might 
i.  There 
;times,  by 

in  them, 
rom  that, 
lings  that 
:  tiiere  waa 
len  I  was 
CJermaine, 

that  and 
gh,  when- 
d  of  that 
torn  of  my 
eds  in  the 


scenes  ? " 


lly ;  "  your 
nature  re- 
ined these 
himself  in 
Ds.  When 
e  crew  to- 
;hed  them, 
1  *^ni;irting 
o;radations, 
y&  in  their 
h  to  atone 
him.  He 
nd  1  doubt 
religiously 

these  sea- 
at  our  old 
inking  and 


burning  ships.  Sometimes,  to  vary  the  amusement,  and 
breathe  a  spell,  we  used  to  go  ashore  and  raise  old  Nick 
generally  among  the  f^aceable  inhabitants  of  various  sea- 
port towns  and  cities.  "hese  places  very  soon  gut  too  hot 
to  hold  us,  and  we  ne\.  ventured  back  to  the  same  place 
twice;  for  some  of  the  luen,  getting  tender-hearted  at  times, 
would  take  a  fancy  to  the  pretty  wives  and  daughters  of  the 
good  citizens,  and  carry  off  two  or  three  of  them  for  the 
benefit  of  sea-air.  Of  course  there  always  was  the  devil  to 
pay  when  these  little  escapades  were  found  out,  and  it  was 
like  running  our  heads  i.ito  a  hornet's-nest  to  go  back. 
Your  father  wished  to  go  to  England  and  see  after  you,  I 
fancy,  but  there  was  no  opportunity.  He  managed  tc  make 
his  escape,  however,  after  a  long  time  ;  gave  the  higJi  sea- 
wolves  leg-bail  one  moonlight  night,  and  was  off.  He 
reached  England  in  safety,  and  there,  the  first  news  he  had 
was  his  own  death,  and  the  marriage  of  Lady  Maude  Percy 
to  the  son  of  his  enemy.  Lord  Ernest  Villiers. 

"  The  news  nearly  drove  him  mad,  for  his  love  for  that 
beautiful  lady  amounted  to  frenzy.  His  intentions  had  been 
to  seek  you  uut ;  but  when  he  heard  of  that  marriage  he  fled 
from  England  as  the  old  demon  was  after  him,  and  never 
rested  till  he  reacued  the  place  where  he  knew  he  was  most 
likely  to  meet  his  old  friends,  the  pirates,  again. 

"  Well,  he  found  them,  gave  some  plausible  reason  for  his 
absence,  and  was  admitted  among  that  happy  ban  1  of 
Christian  brothers  once  more.  He  reached  them  just  in  the 
nick  of  time,  too  ;  for  their  commander  was  dead,  and  the 
whole  crew  were  phmged  in  deepest  affliction  about  it,  as 
they  were  never  likely  to  find  another  who  could  kill,  slay, 
burn,  and  murder  all  before  him,  and  send  insubordinate 
sailors  to  kingdom  come,  with  a  rap  of  a  marlin-spike,  as 
neatly  as  he  could.  Your  father  had,  from  the  first,  been  an 
immense  favorite  with  them,  and  id  obtained  that  power- 
ful asciidency  over  them  that  nen  of  refined  an  1  strong 
ni'  Is  always  possess  over  coarse,  brute  natures;  and  be- 
sides, he  had  the  amiable  qualities  of  his  lamciitcd  and  ac- 
complished predecessor  in  a  very  high  degree.  Theiefore, 
no  sooner  did  he  arrive  than  he  was  unanimoubiy  and  with 
one  accord,  elected  to  the  vacant  co  :.nd,  and  stood  in 
the  shoes  of  the  never-to-be  sufficient!}  niourri  d-for  Captain 


"Zamf  n-* 


3S3 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


!.' 


Diago  who,  having  served  his  Satanic  Majesty  like  a  faithful 
servant  for  Hve-and-twenty  years  in  this  uliirligig  world, 
'"ent  to  aid  him  in  keeping  the  Kingdom  Infernal  in  order, 
with  five  ounces  of  lead  through  his  skull. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Germaine,  under  the  command  of  your  worthy 
father,  who,  by  the  way,  dropped  his  a/ms  of  Germaine  when 
he  first  joined  the  pirates,  the  '  Diable  Rouge,'  as  we  called, 
very  appropriately,  our  ship,  did  a  flourishing  business, 
and  sunk  more  goodly  vessels  belonging  to  their  various 
Christian  Majesties  than  all  the  other  gay  crafts  sailing 
under  the  black  flag  at  the  time.  He  did  some  good,  too, 
among  his  own  crew— put  a  stop  to  all  their  not-easily-to-be- 
told  exc«  ,es,  of  more  kinds  than  one,  and  let  them  know 
they  had  tound  their  master  at  last.  They  were  inclined  to 
rebel,  and  did  rebel  at  first;  but  he  very  coolly  took  out  a 
brace  of  pistols  and  shot  two  of  the  ringleaders  of  the  mutiny 
dead  ;  and  then,  in  a  speech  much  shorter  than  sweet,  gave 
them  to  understand  that  every  symptom  of  insubordination 
would,  in  the  future,  be  put  a  stop  to  in  the  same  gentle  and 
fatherly  way.  Well,  Mr.  Germaine,  would  you  believe  it, 
instead  of  flying  into  a  rage  at  this,  and  kicking  up  a 
rumpus,  they  inunediately  conceived  an  immense  rt...pect 
for  him,  and  from  that  day  no  Caliph  Haroun  Alraschid 
ever  reigned  it  more  royally  over  his  bastinadoed  subjects 
than  did  Captain  Re — yo'ur  father,  on  board  the  '  Red 
Devil.'  On  board  a  French  privateer,  that  we  sent  to 
Davy  Jones'  one  night,  we  found  a  lot  of  ladies ;  and  after 
sending  their  masculine  fi  lends  to  another,  and  it  is  to  be 
hoped  a  better  world,  we  transferred  the  fair  portion  of  the 
cargo  to  our  own  ship.  It  was  nothing  unusual  for  us  to 
take  ladies  in  this  way  ;  but  since  your  father  took  command 
they  were  always  well  and  respectfully  treated,  and  landed 
at  the  first  port  we  touched,  well  supplied  with  money,  and 
left  to  make  the  best  of  their  way  home.  Therefore,  our 
having  three  or  four  of  the  dear  creatures  on  board  now 
would  not  have  been  worthy  of  notice,  had  not  one  of  them, 
a  most  beautiful  French  girl,  and  a  daughter  of  a  great  mag- 
nate of  the  land — a  marquis  de  something — took  it  into  her 
head  to  fall  in  love  with  our  dare-devil  of  a  captain  ;  and 
when  the  ship  arrived  at  the  place  where  the  rest  were  to  be 
landed,  mademoiselle  absolutely  '  put  her  foot  down,'  to  use 


THE  OUTLAW'S  STORY. 


359 


ia  faithful 

,ng  world, 

in  order, 

lur  worthy 
aine  when 
we  called, 

business, 
ir  various 
fts  sailii\g 
^ood,  too, 
sily-to-be- 
Kiu  know 
iclined  to 
ook  out  a 
le  mutiny 
eet,  gave 
)rdination 
entle  and 
)elieve  it, 
ing  up  a 
2  respect 
Alrasrhid 

subjects 
:he  '  Red 
sent  to 
and  after 
t  is  to  be 
ion  of  the 
for  us  to 
command 
d  landed 
ney,  and 
iore,  our 
3ard  now 
:  of  them, 
reat  mag- 

into  her 
ain  ;  and 
ere  to  be 
I,'  to  use 


a  common  expression,  and  flatly  refused  to  leave  him.  In 
vain  he  exp(»'^Uilat«.d  :  told  her  he  did  not  love  her;  that 
the  iife  he  led  was  too  dangerous  for  her  to  think  of  sharing; 
that  his  life  was  never  safe  for  two  consecutive  minutes  ;  that 
she  would  be  wretched  with  him,  and  so  forth ;  in  fact,  he 
talked  to  her  as  if  he  had  been  the  greatest  old  anchorite 
that  ever  looked  upon  the  adorable  sex  as  a  special  invention 
of  Satan— the  whole  thing  was  the  old  story  of  St.  Revere 
and  Cathlcen  over  again.  Mademoiselle  wouldn't  listen  to 
reason,  and  determined  to  have  him  at  any  price.  Our 
moral  young  captain  hesitated  at  first ;  but  she  was  young, 
beautiful,  '  rounded  and  ripe,'  and  he  was  only  frail  flesh 
and  blood  like  the  rest  of  us ;  and  the  result  of  all  her  tears 
and  pleadings  was,  that  one  evening  they  both  went  on  shore 
together,  and  perpetrated  downright  matrimony,  in  free 
and  easy  defiance  of  all  the  statutes  and  by-laws  against 
bigamy  that  ever  were  made.  Perhaps  he  thought  he  had 
made  enough  miserable  for  life,  and  that  there  might  be  some 
merit,  after  all,  in  making  this  infatuated  young  creature 
happy.  It  is  really  wonderful  how  girls,  all  the  world  over, 
will  cling  to  the  most  undesirable  set  of  men,  black-legs, 
pugilists,  loafers,  all  sorts  of  outlawed  people,  and  give  the 
cold  shoulder  to  sensible,  straight-forward,  every-day  Chris- 
tians. You  may  talk  to  them  till  your  tongue  aches, 
and  show  them  the  evil  of  their  ways  in  the  most  glaring 
colors,  their  reply  will  be :  '  I  love  him,'  and  after  that  you 
might  as  well  try  to  drain  the  Atlantic  with  a  teaspoon  as  to 
make  them  give  him  up  ;  they'll  cling  to  him  like  a  barnacle 
to  the  bottom  of  an  old  ship.  But  hold  on  I  it  won't  do  to 
indulge  in  a  train  of  moral  reflections  ;  for  if  I  begin  I  won't 
know  when  to  stop. 

"  Well,  our  captain  took  his  pretty  wife  to  sea  with  him — 
for,  though  he  offered  to  procure  a  hoi^e  for  her  on  any  part 
of  the  globe,  she  would  not  hear  of  leaving  him.  He  was 
totally  unworthy  of  such  strong,  passionate  love  as  she 
lavished  upon  him,  but  he  did  all  he  could  under  the  circum- 
stances to  make  her  happy.  He  liked  her,  she  was  such  a 
strong-loving,  brave-hearted  girl — but  he  did  not,  could  not 
love  her.  It  seemed  as  if  all  love  had  died  out  of  his  heart 
until  the  birth  of  his  lii^'C  daughicr,  and 
old  slumbering  affections  awoke  and  centered  in  her. 


% 
^ 


tricii  t-oiTtc  Oi  tiiS 


36o 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


"  After  her  birth,  his  better  nature,  or  what  remained  of 
it,  seemed  to  awake,  and  he  grew  tired  and  sick  of  the  evil 
life  he  led.  He  had  glutted  his  vengeance  sufficiently 
already :  and  she  was  continually  urging  him  to  give  it  up ; 
and  now  that  time  had  calmed  his  feelings  concerning  the 
marriage  of  Lady  Maude,  he  wished  to  return  to  England 
and  seek  out  his  other  child  1  Such  was  his  continual 
resolve,  but  still  nearly  two  years  elapsed  before  he  carried 
it  into  effect.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  gave  up  his  com- 
mand of  the  '  Diable  Rouge'  to  the  chief  mate,  and  with  his 
wife  and  little  dark-eyed  daughter  Rita,  set  out  for  England. 
No  one  knew  him  there  ;  time  and  a  tropical  sun  had  changed 
him  wonderfully,  so  he  was  free  to  pursue  his  investigations 
unmolested.  He  made  every  inquiry  about  his  mother  and 
son  ;  but,  of  course,  they  were  in  vain,  since  long  before, 
they  had  left  for  this  place. 

"  But  Fate,  as  if  not  tired  of  showering  blows  upon  him, 
had  still  another  in  reserve  for  him.  His  little  daughter 
Rita  was  lost  one  day  in  the  great  wilderness  of  London, 
and  he  never  saw  or  heard  of  her  after." 

Captain  Reginald  paused  for  a  moment  and  averted  his 
face,  while  Ray  continued  to  listen  with  breathless  interest. 

"  His  wife  nearly  went  crazy,"  continued  Captain  Regi- 
nald  at  last,  lifting  his  head  and  speaking  very  rapidly ; "  she 
was  crazy  for  a  time,  and  he — he  grew  desperate.  He  did 
not  rejoin  the  pirates — his  very  soul  loathed  them  — but  he 
became  a  reckless  man.  He  roamed  the  world  over,  smug- 
gled, ran  into  danger,  exposed  himself  to  death  every  day — 
and  lived  through  all.  His  wife  accompanied  him  in  every 
danger ;  she  never  left  his  side  during  all  these  long,  long, 
sorrowful  years.  Fate,  Providence — a  superior  power  of 
some  sort — drove  him  to  this  coast ;  he  found  this  cave, 
made  it  one  of  his  rendezvous,  and  often  came  here,  with- 
out dreaming  that  his  mother  and  son  were  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  him.  Truly,  as  I  said,  this  world  is  full  of  paper 
walls,  when  mother,  and  father,  and  son  dwell  so  near,  and 
never  until  now  met." 

He  paused  and  came  over  to  Ray.  He  started  to  his 
feet  and   confronted  the  strange  narrator  with  wonder-wide 

eves, 
"rf  — 


5  .  i  f 


THE  ATTACK. 


361 


remained  of 

ic  of  the  evil 

sufficiently 

3  give  it  up  ; 

ncerning  the 

to  England 

is    continual 

e  he  carried 

up  his  com- 

and  with  his 

'or  England. 

Iiad  changed 

ivestigations 

mother  and 

long  before, 

s  upon  him, 

le   daughter 

of  London, 

averted  his 
;ss  interest, 
ptain  Regi- 
ipidiy ; "  she 
:e.  He  did 
m  — but  he 

over,  smug- 
every  day — 
lim  in  every 
:  long,  long, 
r  power  of 
i  this  cave, 

here,  with- 
lin  a  stone's 
"uU  of  paper 
o  near,  and 

irted  to  his 
vonder-wide 


"  Restored  now  i  "  he  said,  wildly.     "  And  have  they  met 

at  last  ? " 

"  They   have,"  replied  the  outlaw,  with  a  strange,  sad 

smile. 

"  My  father  !  my  father  1  where  is  he  ? "  cried  Ray,  half 
delirious  with  all  these  revelations. 

"  He  stands  beside  you  1  I  am  your  father  1 "  was  the 
thrilling  answer. 

CHAPTER  XXXVn. 

THE  ATTACK. 

" Then  more  fierce 

The  conflict  grew  :  the  din  of  arms  ;  the  yell 
Of  savage  rage  ;  the  shriek  of  agony  ; 
The  groans  of  death,  commingled  with  one  sound 
Of  undistinguished  horrors." 

*•  — SOUTHEY. 

Silent,  motionless,  speechless,  with  surprise  and  many 
contending  emotions,  Ray  stood  gazing  on  his  new-found 
father,  like  one  suddenly  strieken  dumb.  And  with  one  hand 
resting  on  the  young  man's  shoulders,  the  outlaw  stood  be- 
fore him,  looking  in  his  pale,  wild,  excited  face,  with  a 
strange,  sad  smile.  _ 

"  My  father  1 "  reoeated  Ray,  like  one  in  a  dream. 

"  Yes,  even  so ;  you  have  little  cause,  I  fear,  to  be  provd 
of  the  relationship.  In  the  branded  outlaw,  smuggler,  and 
pirate.  Captain  Reginald,  you  behold  him  who  was  once 
known  as  the  Count  Germaine,  the  husband  of  the  beautiful, 
high-born  Lady  Maude  Percy,  and  your  father.  Strange, 
strange,  that  we  should  meet  thus." 

For  some  moments  Ray  paced  up  and  down  the  floor 
rapidly  and  excitedly,  with  a  face  from  which  every  trace  of 
color  had  fled.  His  father  stood  watching  him,  one  arm 
leaning  on  a  sort  of  mantel,  with  a  look  half  proud,  half  sad, 
half  bitter,  commingled  on  his  still  fine  face. 

"  I  see  you  are  not  disposed  to  acknowledge  the  relation- 
ship  between  us,  sir,"  he  said,  almost  haughtily.  "  Well,  I 
own  you  are  not  to  blame  for  that.  Let  us  part  as  we  mci 
first,  as   strangers ;  you  go  your  way   and  I  will  continue 


■ii  J.«ill      ^k    M     I  »v"T^ 


362 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


mine  I  The  world  need  never  know  that  you  are  aught  to 
tiie  outlawed  rover-chief.  You  are  free,  sir  ;  free  to  go,  and  to 
take  Mis.s  Lawless  with  you,  if  you  choose.  I  did  wish  to  see 
my  poor  old  mother  before  I  left,  but,  perhaps,  it  is  better  as 
It  IS.  I  will  leave  this  part  of  the  world  altogether,  and  re- 
turn no  more  ;  the  son  of  Maude  Percy,  the  one  love  of  my 
crune-darkened  life,  will  never  be  compromised  by  me  " 

There  was  something  unspeakably  sad  in  the  proud,  cold 
way  this  was  said,  compared  with  the  deep  melancholy  the 
bitter  remorse  in  his  dark  eyes.  There  were  tears  that  did 
honor  to  his  manly  heart  in  Ray's  eyes,  as  he  came  over  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

"  My  father,  you  wrong  me,"  he  said,  earnestly  ;  "  it  wa^ 
from  no  such  unworthy  feeling  I  hesitated  to  reply.  These 
revelations  came  so  suddenly,  so  unexpectedly,  that  for  the 
time  being  I  was  stunned,  and  unable  to  comprehend  all 
clearly.  Outlaw  or  not,  you  are  my  father  still;  and  as 
such,  we  will  leave  the  world  and  its  scorn  togeth>^r  If 
your  crimes  have  been  great,  so  have  your  wrongs;  and 
let  him  who   is  without  sin  cast  the  f^rst  stone." 

The  hands  of  father  and  son  met  in  a  strong,  earnest  clasp  • 
but  the  outlaw's  face  was  averted,  and  his  strong  chest  rose 
and  tell  like  the  waves  of  a  tempest-tossed  sea. 

At  this  moment  the  curtain  was  pushed  aside,  and  the 
l-renchwoman  Marguerite,  stood  before  them. 

"  Well,  Marguerite  ?  "  said  the  «»utlaw,  looking  up. 

"  Did  you  expect  any  of  the  men  to  return  to-night  > "  she 
asked,  looking  with  the  same  glance  of  sharp  suspicion 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"  No.     Why  ?  " 

"  Some  of  them  are  without ;  they  have  given  the  signal  " 

"  Oh,  well,  tell  Bart  to  await  them.  I  did  not  expert 
them,  but  something  may  have  brought  them  back.  Admit 
them  at  once." 

The  woman  turned  and  left  the  room,  aud  the  outlaw 
looking  at  Ray,  said,  with  a  sad  smile  : 

"Poor    Marguerite!   she  has  been    faithful    tlirough  all 
clinging  to  me  with  a  love  of  which  I  am  utterly  unworthy' 
I'oor  Marguerite  !  she  was  deserving  of  a  better  fate." 

"  I  '^I'pposc  she  has  now  quite  recovered  from  the  loss  of 
her  child,"  said  Ray. 


!!     f 


THE  ATTACK. 


363 


:e  aught  to 
o  go,  and  to 
wish  to  see 
is  better  as 
ler,  and  re- 
ove  of  my 
y  me." 
Droud,  cold 
iicholy,  the 
rs  that  did 
le  over  and 

•;  "it  was 
ly.  These 
lat  for  the 
rehend  all 
11 ;  and  as 
jeth^-r.  If 
Dngs;   and 

lest  clasp ; 
chest  rose 

,  and  the 

ip. 

E;ht  ? "  she 
suspicion 


e  signal." 
ot  expect 
:.     Admit 

e  outlaw. 

■ough  all, 
in  worthy, 
te." 
le  loss  of 


«« Never  1  she  has  never  been  the  same  since.  Dear 
Rita  1  sweet  little  angel  I  Oh  1  Raymond,  I  loved  that  child 
as " 

The  sentence  was  interrupted  in  a  blood-chilling  manner 

enough.  .,,1      ^ 

From  the  distant  entrance  of  the  cave  came  a  wild  shout 
of  alarm,  then  an  exulting  cheer,  lost  in  the  sharp  report  of 
firearms  and  the  trampling  of  many  feet. 

"Ha!  what  means  this?"  exclaimed  the  outlaw,  as  he 
dashed  the  curtain  aside,  and,  closely  followed  by  Ray,  stood 
in  the  outer  apartment. 

The  men  were  already  on  their  feet,  gazmg  m  alarm  m 
each  other's  faces,  and  involuntarily  grasping  their  weapons. 
In  the  midst  of  them  stood  Pet  and  the  Frenchwoman,  listen- 
ing in  surprise  and  vague  alarm. 

Still  the  noise  continued.  Shouts,  cheers,  the  trampling 
of  feet,  and  the  report  of  firearms,  all  commingling  together. 
At  the  same  instant  Black  Bart  and  two  others  rushed  m, 
all  covered  with  blood,  and  shouting  :  ,  r-        . 

"  Betrayed  I  betrayed  I  that  devil's  whelp,  Rozzel  Garnet, 
has  betrayed  us,  and  the  revenue-officers  are  upon  us  red 
hot.  Here  they  come  with  that  cursed  white-livered  dog 
among  them,"  yelled  Black  Bart,  as  he  rushed  in. 

"  Come  with  me,  this  is  no  place  for  us,"  said  the  woman 
Marguerite,  as  she  seized  Pet  by  the  arm,  and  dragged  her 
into  the  inner  apartment.  . 

In  rushed  the  officers  of  the  law,  some  twenty  in  all,  three 
times  the  number  of  the  smugglers ;  and  their  leader,  in  a 
loud,  authoritative  voice,  commanded  them  to  lay  down  their 
arms  and  surrender  in  the  name  of  the  law. 

"  Go  to  the  devil  I  "  was  Black  Bart's  civil  reply,  as  he 
took  deliberate  aim,  and  sent  a  bullet  whistling  through 
the  heart  of  the  unfortunate  man.  r  n    *   u  • 

A'  shout  of  rage  arose  from  the  officers  at  the  fall  ot  their 
leader,  and  they  rushed  precipitately  upon  the  outlaws. 
But  their  welcome  was  a  warm  one ;  for  the  pirates,  well- 
knowing  what  would  be  their  fat^i  if  captured  alive,  fought 
like  demons,    and    soon    the  uproar    in    the   vaults    grew 

fearful.  .  .     , , 

"  On,  my  brave  fellows,  on  !  "  shouted  Captain  Reginaia ; 
"  death  here,  if  we  must  die,  sooner  than  on  the  gallows. 


<«•*»»■" 


364  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

H:i.t;tsirau„^°:::ip«;,^"«'  ""=  ^"-^  -'-a,  vnu.-n. 

asthesmufSernere'Thl''''  11"  '""™' '  >»"  Operate 

three  timesfhlTnrb;    ^n'°"Je1teT^l°"fr";''' '^^"^ 
than  themselves.     The  revenue  „ffl       "m^d /nd  prepared 

in  an  incredibly  sl,ort  space  of  tinfeT  "^"'f^  °"  *<^"' '  ='"d 
were  securely  bound,  Se  rh  ee  1  e' 1!//''^  ^""^giers 

on, he  bloodstained.  ■slipperJfl^^rof.heTave         '"'  "'^^ 
Three  times  during  the  conflirf  h,^  ,1  , 

maine  interposed  to  save  .Afn  h    •    r    "^  ^™  "='  ^=')'  G"- 

the  desperal^on  of  mTd„eS     But  hi  "s'i'nHe'''  '""«'"  "'"■■ 
availing  to  turn  thp  f.^rf,  ^       r  ^'"^'^   ^™   was  un- 

fallin/help,es"s  on"  ve  "'side  of  ":;,'"l';f  f "  "'^  "» 
w.th  such  desperate  fierceness  ^hatTh.  '  '"'  ^""g'"  °" 

is'/rS.-  -'- »"  ^o^e  ^^-^^eir^^rto^d:?.^: 
ous^b'uHhf  jLrrrwti'i^jr  "r,°f  "^  ^^^- ™'-'- 

their  number  lay  wounded  or  df' '°[ '"""^ 'han  ''''If 
paused  now  drew  .iTn„  1  ^f  ''*'"''  °"  ""e  floor  Thev 
off  their  heltedTnd  in^SL'e'tcer'  ^'""''  '"^  P^^"'™"- 

H:^°Sfo™'j?;,r*;iii:?;r:;tr'''^'i^^  ™  '"^  ^™™<'- 
"■"V?i^re:s'?.hr"r"^^^^^^^^^^^   '"'  '""^ 

her  before  I  die  and^eMm,,  „  Marguerite  ;  I  would  see 
to  God  I  could  see  hrrl^^^  •  ""^  P""  '"Other-would 

starting  up  ;  "  and  vou  shnli  c  ^^^J"^^"^^.^  ^^y>  impetuously, 
Mr.Chesny>heaSd     .?  /     .^'^^   ^"   'P'*^   °^  ^hem  all 
revenue<>ffi^cers     'tni  Vou     "^  %'^''  P'-^^-"^  leader  of  the 

bearCaptainR;ginalL^ntoO!HT;      '°"!^  °^  3^°"'-  "^^"  ^o 
ly  p  M      ^  gina^cl  up  to  Old  Barrens  Cottage  immedlate- 

The  gentleman   addressed.   wi,o    i..„...    x, 
turned  round  in  surnrisp      t^  f/'u    ""''/'    ■^^>'    i»tunate  y, 
a  ^n  surprise.     In  the  heat  of  the  conflict-W  had 


5*-.-j*WiowiB*is  ji; ' 


THE  ATTACK. 


365 


ernal  villain. 

ind  a  shriek 
the  air,  and 

t  desperate 

out  against 

d  prepared 

them  ;  and 

smugglers 

and  dead 

'  Ray  Ger- 

ought  with 
1  was  un- 
V  his  men 
fought  on 
officers  at 
funded  to 

re  victori- 
than  half 
>r.  They 
rspiration 


e  ground. 
It   beside 

have  re- 
ould  see 
r — would 
ile  a  look 
ace. 

etuously, 
them  all. 
er  of  the 

men  to 
mediate- 

luiately, 
t.W  had 


not  perceived  him,  and  now  he  looked  his  astonishment  at 
the  unexpected  rencontre. 

"  You  here,  Mr.  Germaine  1  "  he  exclaimed.  **  Why,  how 
comes  this  ? " 

"  I  was  brought  here  a  prisoner — never  mind  that,  "  said 
Ray,  impatiently ;  "  will  you  permit  me  to  have  this  wounded 
man  removed  ? " 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  fellow.  He  is  the  notorious  leader 
of  this  villainous  gang — an  outlaw  with  a  price  on  his  head. 
I  am  responsible  for  his  safe  delivery  into  the  hands  of 
justice," 

"  And  those  hands  he  will  never  reach !  Do  you  not  see 
he  is  dying  ? "  said  Ray,  passionately.  "  Look  at  him, 
Chesny,  do  you  think  you  could  bring  him  to  Judestown  in 
that  state  ?     Do  you  think  he  would  ever  reach  it  alive  ? " 

"  Mr.  Germaine,  I  should  like  to  oblige  you — " 

"  Do  it,  then.  Let  me  take  him  to  the  cottage,  and  I  will 
be  responsible  for  his  not  escaping.  Nonsense,  Chesny  \ 
You  see  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  be  taken  further.  You 
must  have  him  taken  there.  Sure  some  of  you  may  guard 
the  house  if  you  fear  his  escaping." 

"  Be  it  so,  then.  Come,  boys,  construct  something  to  carry 
this  wounded  man  to  Old  Barrens  Cottage  on.  Hallo  !  Miss 
Lawless,  by  all  that's  glorious  1  "  exclaimed  the  officers  as 
Pet,  with  Marguerite,  appeared  from  the  inner  room. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Chesny  ?  Oh,  what  a  dreadful 
night  this  has  been  1  "  said  Pet,  with  a  shudder.  "  Good 
Heavens!  is  Captain  Reginald  dead ?"  she  exclaimed,  in 
consternation. 

"  No  ;  wounded  only ;  he  is  to  be  conveyed  to  Old  Barrens 
Cottage.     How  in  the  world  did  you  get  here,  Miss  Pet  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  carried  me  off.     Rozzel  Garnet  did." 

"  Well,  you   are  the  last  he  will  carry  off,  I  fancy.     Here-- 
he  lies  1  "  said  the  man,  touching  the  stark,  ghastly  form 
slightly  with  his  foot. 

"  Dead  1 "  said  Pet,  turning  pale. 

"  Yes ;  the  smuggler-chief  there  sent  a  bullet  through  him 
the  first  thing ;  and  served  him  right,  too,  for  peaching  as 
he  did,  the  mean  cuss  1  Hurry  up,  boys  1  Oh  I  you've  got 
through,  i  see.  Lift  him  on  it,  now — gently,  gently,  there ; 
you  have  stopped  the  blood,  I  see,  Germaine  ;  that's  right. 


II 


PI 


r  n 


f 

i 


•M.: 


366  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

Ha  I  whom  have  we  here  ?  "  he  exclnim^^  o    u- 

the  woman  MamueritP  wh«  "^  exciamied,  as  his  eyes  fell  on 

side  she  knelt,  S   he  hea/of  tir'  '^^'.^^  '^^  ^^^  ^^ose 
breast,  and  gently  wiped   he  coM  T'i"^'^  ^^'^^  ""  ^er 

is  the  woman  ;>  "         ^  '^°''^  ^"^^^^  ^^  ^'s  face.     "  Who 

pa::3^r^^kSiS:j;;;"J-  ^-^-     '^^-  her  accom. 
this  den  of  horrors  ? ' '       '  ^°"  ^'^^^P'  '"X  escort  from 

so's^r'^ry^'cam^^^^^^^^  And  oh    lam 

liked  hL  ?eal  wellr.'^""'"  '^  "°""^^^-     ^^  you  know!^ 

throJh^^:^:nrsh;t^-k|,^^^  ^^   drew   Pet's   arm 

"The  mtr  ''-'V^  -^:^e'ar^,^wh•  r^^  '''''^'  '^ 
^^^'^rZ;^^^^^^^^^  Captain  Reginald 

uttered  but  one  passionTte  exclamatio^Tn'"'';  "^°  ^^^ 
silent,  and  then  came  Ray  and  P.T  ?^  fol  owed,  still  and 
nue^fficers  bringing  up  the  rear  Vf^^  ^  /'^  ""^  '^'  '^^^- 
sion  passed  from  the  gloomy  cave  n  ''^^T^J'^y  Proces- 
horrors,  with  its  bloody  and  unbur^eH  T^'"''""^  ^  ^^^^  ^^ 
long,  deep  breath  of  intense  reUe  IJTu^  \'"^  ^^'  ^rew  a 
stood  once  more  in  the  open  air  thankfulness  as  she 

-7st"tTe  he"  rf"shet  not  f^'"  ''"'"^^ '"  ^^^  ^^t.     ^^  It 
like,  I  will  ride  to  Judestor^^^^^^^  ^"^  ^^^"'  ^^  you 

no  danger  now."       '''^'^°'^"  ^^'^  'he  doctor.     There  can  be 

Ray,  who  would  not  leavp  hJc  r.^-u 
darted  off  over  the  slippery  shinl  '  f °"«t" ted ;  and  Pet 
young  mountain  deer  X  3'^  ^""^  "P  ^^e  rocks  like  a 
their  burden,  who  lay  with  hi^wWte"ff°'''^'^  '^^^^'^^  ^^^h 
so  enjn  starlight ;  and  who  n^^y  11  the  bitT^K?^  '"  "^^  ^^«' 
ful  thoughts  of  the  dark  sormwf  ^'■'  '''"er,  remorse- 

heart  there.     Ray  and  Mar^u^^^^^^^^  ^'''>  ^^^"'"^  in  his  proud 
mute,    too.     He    with    }W?'?^  °"  ^^^h  side,   were 

ground,  and  on  the  wound  dT/'^'f"^^^'^  '^-^    -    the 
the    astounding   revdations    T?u  ^''''  ^'^^^^  to  realize 

straight  before  her  Inrthe   rf/rt'    "'^'^' '    ^^^^    ^^^^ing 
look  of   fierce,    sullen   de-n^?''  ^'^^  ^^'  customar? 

wretched,  brok^n-heanedToran^^^'"^   "'^^   ^'^   -«"- 
There  were  lights  and  a  subdued  bustle  in  the  cottage 


■^*.*»^<t«w««ir«>>.w'*«fe>ywiijwa*i^t.wsfe»aTO!>»tMt»H<^ 


THE  ATTACK. 


367 


eyes  fell  on 
e  by  whose 
hief  on  her 
ce.     "  Who 

ler  accom- 
scort  from 

oh,  I  am 
u  know,  I 

Pet's   arm 
startled  to 

Reginald 
who  had 
still  and 
the  reve- 
y  proces- 
cave  of 
et  drew  a 
is  as  she 

*et.  "  It 
n,  if  you 
e  can  be 

and  Pet 
ks  like  a 
vly  with 
the  sad, 
emorse- 
is  proud 
e,   were 
on   the 
realize 
looking 
itomary 
was — a 

cottage 


when  they  reached  it.  Erminie,  white  and  trembling,  met 
them  at  the  door.  Pet  had  told  her  all  so  breathlessly,  and 
then  had  mounted  Ray's  horse  and  darted  off  for  Judes- 
town  so  quickly,  that  Erminie  even  yet  only  half  compre- 
hended what  had  taken  place. 

There  was  no  time  now  for  explanation,  however.  The 
wounded  man  was  laid  on  the  large,  soft  lounge  in  the  par- 
lor ;  and  then  Chesny,  leaving  one  of  his  men  as  guard, 
more  for  form's  sake  than  anything  else,  took  his  depart- 
ure. 

"  Where  is  my  grandmother,  Erminie  ?  "  asked  Ray,  whose 
white,  stern  face,  had  terrified  her  from  the  first. 
"  In  bed." 

"  Then  go  up  and  waken  her." 
"  Waken  her  at  this  hour  I     Why,  Ray  1  " 
"  Yes ;  you  must,  I  tell  you.     Go  at  once," 
Ray's  fiercely-impatient  manner  and  strange  excitement 
terrified  Erminie  more  and  more :  but  still  she  ventured  to 
lift  up  her  voice  in  feeble  expostulation. 

"  What  good  will  it  do  to  arouse  her  -  She  can  be  of  no 
service  here." 

"  Erminie,  I  tell  you,  you  must  1  "  passionately  exclaimed 
Ray;  "else  I  will  go  myself.  Of  no  service  here  !  Yonder 
dying  man  is  ner  son — her  long-lost  son — supposed  to  have 
been  drownec.     Will  you  go,  now  ?  " 

One  moment's  astounded  pause,  and  then  Erminie  flew 
up-stairs,  and  entered  the  aged  gipsy's  room. 

She  was  lying  asleep,  but  she  never  slept  soundly,  and 
she  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  up  as  Erminie  entered. 
''  W'tVi,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  she  said,  curtly. 
•«  Oh,   grandmother  I  you  must  get  up  1 "  cried  Erminie, 
in  strong  agitation.     "  There  is  a  man  down-stairs  wishes  to 
see  you." 

"  A  man  wishmj^  to  see  me  ?  What  do  you  mean  ? " 
asked  the  gipsy,  kn  Iti..;^'  her  c'ark  brows. 

"  Oh,  grandmother  !    ''-» 'c  is  news  of — of — your  son." 
"  My  son  !  are  you  »"  mg  mad,  girl  ?  "  cried   Ketura,  get- 
ting up  on  her  elbows  unassisted,  for  the  first  time  in  years ; 
and  glaring  upon  her  with  her  hollow,  lurid  eyes. 

"  Oh,  grandmother  1  grandmother  1  we  were  deceived 
— you  were  deceived — Ray  says  he  was  not  drowned." 


%*4^ 


fV 


368  THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 

'' No ;  It  was  a  false  report.     He  lives  1 " 

dea'^^^l^nce^'tlTJ  ni.'ff7he^^""^^'  7'^  '^'  ^-^-^  the 
The  effort  waf  a'/aiS'  SleTeH  ^ack  thUe^^"^^  T  ^•"• 
was  distorted  with  wildest  agonv  '  ''"'^  ^""^"^^ 

"  Girl  1  girl  I  what  have  you  said  ?  "  she  cried  out      «<  ua 
you  say  my  son-my  Regi'nald-lives  ? ''  °"^'        ^'^ 

vacantly,  her  hands  soZht'ly  cTenchei  \?^^Y^<:\'oW.g 
into  the  skin.     It  wa«  ,„ti.l,  clenched  that  the  nails  sunk 

or  comprehend  whit  she  had  h'T-''  "°'  >"«  f»'ly  '^^li« 
her,  numbing  :n~:ndte,?n:^  ""e  words  had  stunned 

a  gentlLanl^.X"/lTiro?lfr,"'fr'"''!''"«  '""= 

'  i9™-:s|ts  ^ot^r!::r%o-~  ■'..-  -- 

pau''s:^d:hlrh  tw^  ^re^vo""  ""<',''-"  t^:- room,   but 

Kay  aTKS  ^-h^^  I?"  ^l^?  /.TLSn^d  ''-"■"  ^^ 

Vol'ZT.^rot't'il^JV^T  •^■-  "°^  the  gaunt, 

and  worn  by  uLss  fnd  °Z  ,T'    "'y^?'^-'^"^'"'-  «""^<i 

now.     Ray  took  her  in  h^'^"         ™'  ^^     ""''  "'">'  ""'=''• 

tly  in  her  L  g:  elbow-cha  r  an°d"^thr'  '""  Pj".""  ''"  S^"" 
h*-r  K«i^,..      ^  ^"a^"^'  ^"^  then  proceeded  to  convP« 


,»M«(WV«t.rt»»S1l««! 


her  face 


making  the 
^e  to  rise, 
y  feature 


t. 


Did 


ice  more 
'  Hasten, 

Jd  it,  and 
55.  The 
3  rolling 
lils  sunk 
y  realize 
stunned 

oceeded 
ing  like 
:n  stuflF. 
•St,  and 
>,  trying 
11  lived. 
Ray. 
!  asked. 

m,   but 

his  ear. 
iide  her 
instant, 

,"  said 

gaunt, 

wasted 

lifted, 

-T  gen- 

J. 


THE  ATTACK. 


369 


I 


She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  looked  up  in  his  face 
with  a  piteous  look. 

"  Oh,  Ray  1  what  have  you  told  me  ?  Is  Reginald  liviner 
still?"  ^  B 

It  was  so  strange  and  so  sad  to  hear  her — that  haughty, 
fierce,  passionate  woman — speak  in  a  tone  like  that,  quick 
tears  rushed  to  the  gentle  eyes  of  Erminie, 

"  Yes,  he  IP  living— he  is  down-stairs;  but  he  has  only 
come  here  t    -.^e  1 "  answered  Ray,  hurriedly. 

"  Oh,  Reginald  I  Reginald  I  Oh,  my  son  !  thank  God  for 
this  1  "  she  passionately  cried  out. 

For  many  and  many  a  year  that  sacred  name  had  never 
crossed  her  lips.  It  sent  a  thrill,  now,  through  the  heart  of 
Ray,  as  he  bore  her  into  the  room  where  the  wounded  man 
lay. 

Who  shall  describe  that  meeting  ?  Long,  long  years  of 
darkest  crime  and  wildest  woe  had  intervened  since  that 
lowering,  lamentable  day  on  which  they  had  parted  last. 
Years  full  of  change,  and  sorrow,  and  sin,  and  remorse 
— years  that  had  changed  the  powerful,  passionate,  majestic 
gipsy  queen  into  the  helpless,  powerless  paralytic  she  was 
now — years  that  had  changed  the  handsome,  high-spirited, 
gallant  youth  into  the  bronzed,  hardened,  guilty  man  lying 
there  dying — passing  slowly  out  into  the  dread  unknown. 
Yet,  despite  time,  and  change,  and  years,  they  knew  each 
other  at  the  first  glance. 

"  Mother,"  said  the  smuggler,  with  a  faint,  strange  smile. 

"  Oh,  my  son  !  my  son  !  Oh,  my  Reginald  I  my  only  son  1 " 
was  her  passionate  cry.  "  Has  the  great  sea  given  up  its 
dead,  that  I  see  you  again  ?  " 

"  You  with  all  the  world  were  deceived,  mother.  When  I 
am  gone,  you  will  learn  all.  Mother,  I  have  only  come 
here  to  die." 

Her  feeble  arms  were  clasped  around  him ;  she  did  not 
seem  to  heed  his  words,  as  her  devouring  eyes  were  riveted 
on  his  face.  He  lay  breathing  quickly  and  laboriously,  his 
face  full  of  bitter  sadness  as  he  saw  the  wreck  of  what  had 
once  been  his  mother.  The  woman  Marguerite  had  drawn 
back,  and  stood  gazing  on  Ketura  with  a  sort  of  still  amaze. 
Kay  was  leaning  against  the  mantel,  his  elbow  resting  on  it, 
and  his  face  shaded  by  his  dark,  falling  hair  ;  and  Erminie, 


370 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


crouched  on  a  low  sea  ,  wlute  and  trembling,  sat  watchin/? 
all.  So  they  remained  for  a  long  time,  the  dull,  heavy  tick- 
mg  of  the  clock  and  a  death  wat'-h  on  the  wall  alone  brok- 
ing the  dreamy  silence.  It  was  an  eerie  scene  and  an  eerie 
hour  and  a  feelmg  of  strange  awe  made  Erminie  hold  her 
very  breath,  wondering  how  this  strange,  unnatural  silence 
was  to  cncl. 

The  quick,  shar]  gallop  of  horses'  feet  broke  it,  at  last  • 
and  the  next  mstant.  Pet,  flushed  and  excii.  d,  burst  in,  fol- 
lowed by  the  doctor  and  by  Ranty.  All  paused  in  the  door- 
way and  stood  regarding  with  silent  wonder,  the  scene  be- 
tore  them, 

Ray  lifr.-d  his  head,  and  going  over,  touched  Ketura  on 
the  arm,  saynig,  m  a  low  voice : 

"  Leave  him  for  a  moment ;  here  is  the  doctor  come  to 
examme  his  wounds." 

h.^!iV?'''KT'''^^'"^^^'">'""^'^'P^^'^"d  '^^  permitted 
herself  to  be  borne  away.     Of  ail   the  strange  things  that 

had  ccrurred  that  night  none  seemed  stranger  to  Ray  than  this 
sudden  and  wonderful  quietude  that  had  come  over  his 
herce,  passionate  grandmc  iher. 

The  doctor  approached  his  patient  to  examine  his  wounds, 
and  Pet,  gomg  over,  began  conversing  in  a  low  tone  with 
Erminie,  telhng  her  how  she  had  encountered  Ranty.  Ray 
stood  watching  the  doctor,  with  interest  and  anxirty  ;  and 
as,  after  a  prolonged  examination,  he  arose,  he  appro,  had 
him  and  said,  hurriedly :  ,  pi^  uc  ucu 

"  Well,  doctor .? " 

The  doctor  shook  his  head. 

-ife  may  linger  two,  three  days,  perhaps,  but  certainly 
nut  ^'jnger.     Nothing  can  save  him."  ^ 

Ray's  very  breath  seemed  to  stop  as  he  listened,  till  it 
became  painful  for  those  around   to    listen   for  its  return. 

a     rolT        "'^"  ^'""'^^  ^""^^"^  "P  ^""^  beckoned  Ray  to 
"I  knew  I  was  done  for," he  said,  with  a  feeble   smile. 
I  was  sur-geon  enough  to  know  it   was  a  mortal  wound. 
How  long  does  he  say  I  may  live  ?  " 

"  Two  or  three  days,"  said  Ray,' in  a  choking  voice. 
So  long  ?"  said  the  smuggler,  a  dark  shade  passing  over 
ills  lace.     "  i   uid  not  think  to  cumber  the  earth  such  a 


THE     TTACK. 


371 


3r  come  to 


length    of   time.     How  does  she  bear  it  ?"  pointing  to  his 
mother. 

"  She  has  not  heard  it  yet ;  she  setms  to  have  fallen  into 
a  kind  of  unnatural  apathy.  The  si  '  has  been  too  much 
foi  iier." 

"  Poor  ni.  ler  !  "he  said,  in  that  me  tone  of  bitter  re- 
m  rse  Ray  had  heard  him  use  bi  i.  "  her  worst  crime 
was  loving  me  00  well.  Bring  her  her(  I  have  soniethinj^ 
to  say  to  her  which  may  as  well  be  said  now." 

Ray  carried  over  the  almost  motionless  fortn  of  the  aged 
gipsy.  The  stricken  lioness  was  a  pitiable  sight  in  her  aged 
helplessness. 

"  Mother,"  said  the  smuggler,  taking  the  withered,  black- 
ened hand  in  his,  and  looking  sa  ily  in  the  vacant  face,  that 
seemed  striving  to  comprehend  wh;  '  had  stunned  her  and 
bewildered  her  so  strangely 

His  voice  recalled  her  a;^  nd  she  turned  her  hollow 

eyes  upon  him.     Awful  eyes  were — like  red-hot  coals  in 

a  bleached  skull. 

"  Mother,  listen  to  me.  I  have  but  a  short  time  to  live, 
and  I  cannot  die  till  I  learn  if  you  have  kept  your  vow  of 
vengeance,  made  long  ago  against  Lord  De  Courcy." 

"  I  have  !  I  have !  "  she  exclaimed,  rousing  to  something 
like  her  old  fierceness.  "  Oh,  Reginald  1  you  have  been 
avenged.  I  have  wrung  "drops  of  blood  from  their  hearts, 
even  as  they  wrung  them  from  mine.  Yes,  yes  I  I  have 
avenged  you  I     They,  too,  know  what  it  is  to  lose  a  child  1  " 

"  Mother  I  mother  1  what  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  I  stole  their  child  I  their  infant  daughter  the  heiress  of 
all  the  De  Courcys,  the  last  of  her  line  I  Yes,  I  stole  her  1 " 
She  fairly  shrieked  now,  with  blazing  eyes.  "  I  vowed  to 
bring  her  up  in  sin  and  pollution,  and  1  would  have  done  so, 
too,  if  I  had  not  been  stricken  with  a  living  death.  Oh, 
Reginald  !  your  mother  avenged  you  !  A  child  for  a  child  I 
They  banished  you,  and  I  stole  their  heir  1  " 

"  Oh,  mother  !  mother !  what  is  this  you  have  done — where 
is  that  child  now  ?  " 

"  Yonder  !  "  cried  the  gipsy,  with  a  sort  of  fierce,  passion- 
ate cry,  pointing  >  e  shaking  finger  toward  the  terrified 
Erminie  ;  "  there  siie  stands  ;  Erminie  Seyton,  the  heiress  of 
the  Earl  and  Countess  De  Courcy.     The  daughter  of  an  earl 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


m 

m 

a. 


ilia 

Ilia 
m 

114.0 


1.4 


I  2.5 

12.2 

2.0 
1.8 


1.6 


^     ^:^PPUED  IIVMGE 


Inc 


I  "53   East   Main   Street 

Roctiester,   New  York         14609       USA 

(716)   482   -0300  -Phone 

(716)   288  -  5989  -  Fax 


,.4-    -   ||   ')( 


372 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I:    'i 


fit' 


i'":; 


has  toiled  like  a  menial  for  your  mother,  Reginald,  all  her 
life.  There  she  stands's  the  lost  daughter  and  heiress  of 
Lord  De  Courcy  1  " 

An  awful  silence  fell  for  a  moment  on  all,  broken  first  by 
the  impetuous  Ranty  Lawless. 

"Lord  and  Lady  De  Courcy  1  why,  they  are  here  in 
America— in  Baltimore,  now.  Good  heavens  I  can  our  Erminie 
be  anything  to  them  ?  Oh,  I  knew  she  was ;  I  saw  the  likeness 
the  very  first  moment  we  met." 

"  Who  says  Lord  and  Lady  De  Courcy  are  here  ?  "  cried 
the  smuggler,  half-rising  himself  in  his  excitement. 

"  I  do !  "  said  Ranty,  stepping  forward  ;  "  they  came  out 
in  our  ship,  and  I  was  with  them  as  far  as  Washington  city. 
Last  night,  I  learned  that  they  had  arrived  at  Baltimore, 
where  a  friend  of  Lady  De  Courcy's,  an  Englishman,  is  resid- 
ing." 

All  he  had  heard,  all  that  had  passed  before,  nothing  had 
affected  him  like  that.  His  chest  rose  and  fell  with  his  long, 
hard,  labored  breathing  and  his  face,  white  before,  was  livid 
now  as  that  of  the  dead. 

"  So  near  !  so  near  1  Can  it  be  that  I  will  see  her  once 
more  ?  And  her  child  here,  too,  where  is  she  ?  I  must  see 
her !  " 

Ray,  who  had  listened  like  one  transfixed  to  his  grand- 
mother's revelations,  made  a  motion  to  Erminie  to  approach. 
Unable  to  comprehend  or  realize  what  she  heard,  she  came 
ever  and  sunk  down  on  her  knees  beside  him. 

He  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  pushed  back  the  pale  golden 
hair  off  her  brow,  and  gazed  long  and  earnestly  in  her  pale 
but  wondrous  lovely  young  face. 

"  Her  father's  eyes  and  hair,  and  features ;  her  mother's 
form  and  expression  ;  the  noble  brow  and  regal  bearing  of 
her  father's  race  spiritualized  and  softened.  Yes,  a  true  De 
Courcy,  and  yet  like  her  mother,  too.     Ray  come  here." 

He  went  over  and  took  his  place  Erminie, 

"  Do  you  know  she  is  your  sister,  your  mother's  child  ?  " 
asked  the  wounded  man. 

"  I  know  it  now ;  I  did  not  before,"  was  the  awe-struck 
answer. 

"  V'ou  have  heard  she  is  in  Baltimore  ? " 
"I  have." 


mmsmum 


iMiiMiiBli 


LADY  MAUDE. 


373 


"  Then  go  there,  immediately  ;  ride  as  you  never  before  in 
your  life,  and  tell  them  all.  Bring  her  here  ;  I  would  see  her 
again  before  I  die." 

Ray  started  to  his  feet. 

"  Tell  her  who  you  are,  yourself — her  son  ;  it  will  be  better 
so.  When  they  learn  their  long-lost  daughter  is  here  they  v/ill 
need  no  incentive  to  have  them  haste.  One  act  of  justice 
must  be  rendered  before  I  die." 

"  Let  me  accompany  you,"  said  Ranty,  as  Ray  started 
from  the  house.  "  I  know  exactly  where  to  find  them. 
Saints  and  angels  1  where  will  the  revelations  of  this  night 
end  ? 

There  was  no  reply  from  Ray ;  he  could  make  none  ;  his 
brains  were  whirling  as  if  mad.  He  sprung  on  his  horse ; 
Ranty  followed,  and  in  another  instant  they  were  flying  on 
like  the  wind  toward  Judestown, 


CHAPTER  XXXVHI. 


er  mother's 


LADY  MAUDE. 
-With  wild  surprise 


As  if  to  marble  struck,  devoid  of  sense, 
A  moment  motionless  she  stood." 

— Thomson. 

In  an  elegantly-farnished  room,  in  a  most  elegant  privai 
mansion,  a  lady,  still  young  and  exceedingly  beautiful,  sat 
with  her  head  leaning  on  her  hand,  her  eyes  fixed  thought- 
fully and  somewhat  sadly  on  the  floor.  A  little  paler  the 
noble  brow,  and  a  little  graver  and  sweeter  the  lovely  face, 
and  a  little  more  passive  and  less  proud  the  soft,  dark  eyes ; 
but  in  all  else  Maude,  Countess  De  Courcy,  was  unchanged. 
The  rich,  black  hair,  still  fell  in  fleecy,  silken  ringlets  round 
the  sweet,  moonlit  face ;  the  tender  smile  was  as  bright  and 
beautiful,  and  the  graceful  form  as  superb  and  faultless  as 
ever.  There  was  a  dreamy,  far-off  look  in  her  dark,  beauti- 
ful eyes,  as  she  watched  the  setting  sun — a  look  that  seemed 
to  say  her  thoughts  were  wandering  in  the  far-off  regions  of 
the  shadowv  past. 

The  lady    was    not    alone.     Half-buried    in    the    downy 
depths  of  a  velvet-cushioned  lounge  reclined  a  proud,  haugh- 


.•^^-.  ^  .*»;i**itutmfiaii^-^ 


,■••<-       fl   f 


374 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


ty,  somewhat  supercilious-looking  young  lady,  most  magnifi- 
cently dressed.  She  was  handsome,  too — very  handsome — 
despite  her  tossy,  consequential  air ;  but  Lady  Rita,  only 
daughter  and  heiress  of  Lord  De  Courcy,  might  be  par- 
doned for  feeling  herself  somebody  above  the  common.  Her 
form  was  slight  and  girlish,  but  perfect  in  all  its  proportions, 
and  displayed  to  the  best  advantage  by  her  elegant  robe ; 
her  complexion  was  dark  as  a  Spaniard's,  but  the  large, 
black  eyes  and  shining  black  hair,  of  purplish  luster,  were 
magnificent.  Diamond  pendants  flashed  and  glittered  in 
her  small  ears,  glaring  through  the  shadowy  masses  of  rich, 
jetty  hair,  whenever  she  moved,  like  sparks  of  fire.  In  one 
hand  she  held  a  richly-inlaid  fan,  and  with  the  other  she 
languidly  patted  a  beautiful  little  Blenheim  spaniel  that 
crouched  at  her  feet  and  watched  her  with  his  soft,  tender, 
brown  eyes. 

"  Mamma,"  said  the  young  lady,  looking  up  after  a  pause. 

The  countess  gave  a  slight  start,  like  one  suddenly  awa- 
kened from  a  reverie,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  turned  round. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  she  said. 

"  What  was  that  papa  and  Mr.  Leicester  were  saying  this 
morning  about  smugglers,  or  outlaws,  or  som  i  other  sort  of 
horrors  that  were  near  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr,  Leicester  was  only  telling  your  papa  that  there 
were  some  of  these  people  hidden  down  in  a  country  town, 
but  a  considerable  distance  from  this.  It  seems  they  forci- 
bly abducted  a  young  lady  not  long  since ;  quite  a  celebrated 
beauty,  too,  and  most  respectable." 

"  Dear  me  1  what  a  dreadful  place  this  must  be,  where 
such  things  are  permitted,"  jaid  the  young  lady,  shrugging 
her  shoulders  ;  "  you  don't  think  there  "  ny  danger  of  their 
attacking  us,  mamma  ?  " 

"No,  I  think  not,"  said  Lady  Maude,  smiling;  "you 
need  not  alarm  yourself,  my  dear ;  those  desperate  people 
are  a  long  way  off,  and  are  probably  arrested  before  this. 
You  need  not  alarm  yourself  in  the  least." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door  at  this  moment,  and  the  next 
a  servant  entered  to  announce  : 

"  Gentlemen  down-stairs  wishing  to  see  Ladv  De  Courcy." 

"  Did  they  send  up  their  namesl"  "  said  the  'lady. 

"  No,  my  lady.     One  of  them  said  he  wanted  to  see  you 


■MMfyaM 


iiMiifiaii 


I,ADY  MAUDE. 


375 


iost  magnifi- 
liandsome — 
J  Rita,  only 
ght  be  par- 
imon.  Her 
proportions, 
egant  robe ; 
t  the  large, 
luster,  were 
glittered  in 
sses  of  rich, 
re.  In  one 
J  other  she 
paniel  that 
soft,  tender, 

ter  a  pause, 
idenly  a  wa- 
rned round. 

saying  this 
ther  sort  of 

1  that  there 

untry  town, 

they  forci- 

.  celebrated 

be,  where 
,  shrugging 
ger  of  their 

ing;  "  you 
■ate  people 
•efore  this. 

id  the  next 

)e  Courcy." 

y- 

to  see  you 


t 


i 


on  most  important  business,  but  he  did  not  send  his  name." 

'<  On  important  business  ?     Who  can  it  be  ?  "  said  Lady 

Maude,  somewhat  surprised.     "  Very  well,  I  will  be  down 

directly." 

Ten  minutes  after  the  drawing-room  door  opened,  two 
gentlemen,  both  young,  arose  and  returned  her  bow. 

But  why,  after  the  first  glance,  does  every  trace  of  color 
fly  from  the  face  of  Lady  De  Courcy  ?  Why  do  her  eyes 
dilate  and  dilate  as  they  rest  on  the  dark,  handsome  face  of 
one  of  her  visitors  ?  Why  does  she  reel  as  if  struck  a  blow, 
and  grasp  a  chair  near  for  support.  And  why,  standing 
the'-e,  and  holding  it  tightly,  does  her  eyes  still  remain 
riveted  to  his  face,  while  her  breath  comes  quick  and  hard  ? 

Reader,  she  sees  standing  before  her  the  living  embodi- 
ment of  her  early  girlhood — he  whom  she  thinks  buried  far 
under  the  wild  sea  1 

"  Lady  De  Courcy,  I  believe  ?  "  said  the  young  gentleman, 
his  own  face  somewhat  agitated. 

His  voice,  too  1 

Lady  Maude,  feeling  as  though  siiS  should  faint,  sunk  in- 
to a  chair,  and  forced  herself  to  say  : 

"  Yes,  sir.     And  yours — " 

She  paused. 

"  Is  Raymond  Germaine." 

Germaine,  too— ///j  name '  What  feeling  was  it  that  set 
her  heart  beating  so  wildly  as  she  gazed  on  that  dark,  hand- 
some face,  and  manly  form. 

He  seemed  moved,  too,  but  in  a  less  degree  than  the  lady. 

There  was  no  time  to  lose,  and  he  began,  hurriedly : 

"  Madam,  excuse  my  seeming  presumption,  but  may  I 
beg  to  ask :  Were  you  not  married  before — before  you  be- 
came the  wife  of  the  present  Earl  De  Courcy  ?  " 

The  room  seemed  swimming  around  her.  Had  the  sea 
given  up  Its  dead,  that  Reginald  Germaine  should  thus 
stand  before  her  ?  From  her  white,  trembling  Ups,  there 
dropped  an  almost  inaudible. 

"Yesl" 

"  And  you  h^d  a  child— a  son— by  that  marriage  ?  "  went 
on  Ray,  who  lelt  circumlocution,  under  the  present  circum- 
stances, would  be  useless. 

Another  trembUng  "  Yes  1  "  from  the  pallid  lips. 


376 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


('■  !'• 


"  You  were  told  he  died  ?  " 

She  bent  her  head,  silent  and  speechless. 

"  Madam— Lady  De  Courcy— they  deceived  you.  That 
child  did  not  die !  " 

White  and  tottering,  she  arose  and  stood  on  her  feet. 

"  He  did  not  die.  Reginald  Germaine  told  you  so  for  his 
own  ends.     That  child  lived  I  " 

Her  lips  parted,  but  no  sound  came  forth  ;  her  eyes,  wild 
now,  were  riveted  to  the  face  of  the  speaker. 

"  The  child  lived,  grew  up,  was  brought  *o  America,  and 
lives  still." 

"  Oh,  saints  in  heaven  1  What  do  I  hear  ?  My  son— my 
child  lives  still !  Heaven  of  heavens  1  You  wear  the  face 
and  form  of  Reginald  Germaine — can  it  be  that  you " 

"  Even  so,  madam,  Countess  De  Courcy,  I  am  his  son 
and  yours!  " 

Was  it  his  bold,  open  face,  or  her  mother's  heart,  that  told 
Lady  Maude  he  spoke  the  truth  ?  With  a  mighty  cry,  she 
held  out  her  arms,  and  the  next  moment  he  was  clasped  in 
a  wild  embrace. 

The  other  young  gentleman  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
found  some  very  absorbing  prospect  out  of  the  window  that 
completely  enchained  his  attention,  and  rendered  the  fre- 
quent use  of  his  handkerchief  necessary.  He  did  not  turn 
round  for  nearly  fifteen  minutes,  and  then  the  new-found 
mother  and  son  were  sitting  together  on  the  sofa,  with  their 
hands  clasped,  talking  in  a  low  tone,  while  her  eyes  never 
wandered  from  his  face. 

He  was  telling  her  the  story  of  his  father,  of  his  escape, 
of  his  subsequent  life,  of  their  meeting,  and  of  his  confes- 
sion and  dying  request. 

Lady  Maude's  face,  as  she  listened,  grew  so  white  and 
fixed  and  rigid  that  you  might  have  thought  it  marble,  save 
for  the  horror  unspeakable,  the  terrible  look  burning  in  the 
great,  black  eyes.  No  word  fell  from  her  lips ;  her  very 
heart  seemed  congealing,  petrifying ;  she  sat  like  one  trans- 
formed to  stone. 

"And  now,  my  dearest  mother,"  said  Ray,  "  I  have  an- 
other revelation  to  make  to  you— one  that,  I  hope,  will  in 
some  measure  atone  for  the  necessary  pain  the  one  1  have 
just  been  making  has  caused  you." 


|AH-ii«te.i<lKMBri^ftti 


MHHiii 


.■utinmiiiim^ 


mmmi^ti. 


LADY  MAUDE. 


377 


ou.     That 

r  feet. 

I  so  for  his 

eyes,  wild 

erica,  and 

f  son — my 
r  the  face 

1  his  son 

:,  that  told 
'  cry,  she 
lasped  in 

'  to  have 
dow  that 
the  fre- 
not  turn 
lew-found 
vith  their 
i^es  never 

is  escape, 
s  confes- 

I'hite  and 
ble,  save 
ig  in  the 
her  very 
3ne  trans- 
have  an- 
e,  will  in 
le  1  have 


She  did  not  speak ;  she  sat  as  cold  and  white  as  marble. 

<'  You  had  another  child— a  daughter  ?  "  he  began,  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  I  had ;  she  is  lost  1  "  said  Lady  Maude,  m  a  tone  so 
altered  that  even  Ranty  started. 

"  Did  she  die  ?  "  Ray  asked,  curiously. 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  she  was  stolen,  I  think." 

"  Yes  ;  she  was  stolen.  My  grandmother,  Ketura,  whom 
I  have  told  you  of — she  stole  her,  and  brought  her  here  at 
the  same  time  she  brought  me." 

There  was  a  sort  of  gasp,  and  Lady  Mav^e  half-started 

to  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  my  God  1     Tell  me— tell  me— is  she— is  she — 

"  She  is  alive  and  well,  and  knows  all." 

"  Thank  God— oh,  thank  God  for  this  I  "  she  cried,  as 
she  sunk  down  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Then  Lady  Maude,  starting 
to  her  feet,  cried  out,  passionately  : 

"  Where  is  she  ?— where  is  she  ?  Take  me  to  her  1  My 
precious  Erminie  1  my  long-lost  darling  1  Oh,  Raymond, 
take  me  to  Erminie  !  " 

"  Will  you  go  now  ?  Ought  not  Lord  De  Courcy — "  be- 
gan Ray,  hesitatingly,  when  she  interrupted  him  with  : 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  1  He  must  hear  all,  and  come  with  us, 
too.      Excuse   me   one   moment.      I   think   he   must   have 

come." 

She  passed  from  the  room,  but  oh,  with  a  face  so  different 
from  that  she  wore  when  entering  1  Then  she  had  fancied 
herself  childless,  and  now  two  had  been  given  her,  as  if  from 
the  dead.  And  Reginald  Germaine,  too — he  whom  she 
thought  lost  at  sea — was  living  yet,  and  she  was  to  see  him 
once  more.  She  trembled  so,  as  she  thought  of  him,  that 
she  almost  sunk  down  as  she  walked. 

The  two  in  the  parlor  saw  a  tall,  distinguished-looking 
man  pass  in  through  the  front-door,  and  the  next  moment  a 
quick,  decided  footstep  in  the  hall,  and  then  a  clear,  pleasant 

voice,  saying :  ,  ,  ,  „ 

"  Got  back,  you  see,  Maude.     Why,  what's  the  matter  ? 
Her  reply  was  too  low  to  be  heard,  but  both  passed  up- 
stairs together. 

«  Lord  De  Courcy,"  said  Ranty,  listening. 


I 


'f*^ 


378 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


V.  1 


1 

^'    . 

"  I  thought  you  said  her  ladyship  knew  you  ?  "  said   Ray. 
•*  She  did  not  seem  to  do  so  while  here." 

"  All  your  fault,"  said  Ranty,  <'  You  didn't  give  her  time 
to  bless  herself  before  you  opened  your  broadside  of  loiock- 
down  facts  ;  and  after  hearing  all  the  astounding  and  unex- 
pected things  you  had  to  tell  her,  of  course  it  couldn't  be  ex- 
pected she  could  think  of  a  common,  every-day  mortal  like 
me.  Heigho  1  And  so  Erminie  is  a  great  lady  now  ?  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  be  glad,  Ray,  but,  if  you'll  believe  it,  up- 
on my  word  and  honor,  I'm  not.  Of  course,  she'll  have 
hundreds  of  suitors,  now ;  and  even  if  she  loved  .-ne — which 
I  don't  suppose  she  did— that  high  and  mighty  seignior,  her 
father,  wouldn't  let  her  have  anything  to  do  with  a  poor 
sailor.  Ray,  I  tell  you  what,  ever  since  I  heard  it  I  have 
been  wishing,  in  the  most  diabolical  manner,  that  it  migh", 
turn  out  to  be  a  false  report.  It  may  not  sound  friendly  nor 
Christian-like  to  wish  it,  Ray,  but  I  do  wish  it— I  wish  she 
had  no*^  ->  red  cent  in  the  world.  I  might  have  had  some 
chance,  LJen." 

Ray,  looking  earnestly  and  thoughtfully  at  the  flowers  in 
the  carpet,  heard  scarcely  a  word  of  this  address.  Ranty 
watched  him  for  a  short  time,  as  if  waiting  for  an  answer  ; 
and  then  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  began  whistling  softly, 
as  if  keeping  up  an  accompaniment  to  his  thoughts. 

The  moments  passed  on.  Half  an  hour  elapsed,  then  an 
hour— an  age  it  seemed  to  the  impatient  Ray.  In  his  rest- 
lessness, he  paced  rapidly  up  and  down,  with  knit  brows, 
casting  quick,  restless  glances  at  the  door. 

It  opened  at  last,  and  Lady  Maude,  dressed  as  if  for  a 
journey,  entered,  leaning  on  her  husband's  arm.  Both  were 
very  pale;  and  Lady  Maude's  eyes  looked  as  if  she  had 
been  weeping.  But  she  was  more  composed  and  natural- 
looking  than  when  she  had  left  the  room. 
^  Ray  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  met  the  eyes  of  Lord  De 
Courcy. 

"  Mr.  Germaine,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand,  "  for  your 
mother's  sake,  you  must  look  upon  me  as  a  father  1  " 

Ray  bent  over  the  hand  he  extended  with  a  look  of  deep 
gratitude,  such  as  no  words  could  express. 

"  Lady  Maude  has  told  nie  all."  continued  his  lordshin. 


'-!^i:-  w^-^'t.  ^  .■Mt^.Mar'M.iiiMrai 


m^mm 


) 


said  Ray. 

e  her  time 
of  knock- 
and  unex- 
dn't  be  ex- 
lortal  like 
now  ?  I 
eve  it,  up- 
he'll  have 
le — which 
gnior,  her 
:h  a  poor 
it  I  have 
:  it  migh- 
iendly  nor 
wish  she 
had  some 

flowers  in 
5.  Ranty 
1  answer ; 
ing  softly, 

1,  then  an 
his  rest- 
lit  brows, 

5  if  for  a 
Both  were 
she  had 
i  natural- 
Lord  De 
'  for  your 
k  of  deep 
lordship- 


LADY  MAUDE. 


379 


"  And  at  the  request  of  the  unhappy   man  whom  you  say  is 
dying,  we  will  start  with  you  immediately." 

As  Ray  bowed,  Ranty  arose,  and  the  earl  caught  sight  of 

him.  . 

«'  Mr.  Lawless,"  he  exclaimed,  in  pleased  surprise ;  "  I  did. 
not  expect  to  meet  you  here.  My  dear,  you  remember  the 
gallant  preserver  of  Rita's  life  ? " 

Ranty  actually  blushed  at  the  epithet,  coming  as  it  did 
from  the  father  of  Erminie. 

"  Would  you  wish  to  see  Lady  Rita  ?      She  is  up-stairs." 
"  Thank  you,  my  lord.     Some  other  time  I  will  have  that 
pleasure,"  answered  Ranty.     "  At  present,  we  have  no  time 
to  spare;  every  minute  is  precious." 

Without  further  parley,  the  whole  party  left  the  house.  A 
carriage  and  fast  horses  were  in  waiting  ;  and  a  few  moments 
after  they  were  on  their  way. 

During  the  journey,  there  was  a  chance  to  explain  every- 
thing more  fully  than  had  yet  been  done,  and  Ray  entered 
willingly  into  all  particulars. 

Lord  and  Lady  De  Courcy  seemed  never  tired  of  asking 

questions  concerning  Erminie  ;  and  Ray  expatiated   on  her 

goodness  and  beauty  in  a  way  to  satisfy  even  the  most  exacting. 

«'  Being  so   beautiful,  of  course  she  might  have  had  many 

suitors  ?  "  said  Lady  Maude,  somewhat  anxiously. 

"  She  might  have  had,  my  dear  mother."  She  seemed  so 
strongly  attached  to  him  already  that  it  became  quite  natural 
to  Ray  to  call  her  mother.  "  But  she  would  listen  to  none 
of  them." 

«'  Thank  Heaven  for  that  1 "  said  Lady  Maude,  drawing  a 
deep  breath  of  relief.  "  Then  her  affections  are  still  her  own  ?  ' 
"  On  that  point  I  am  not  informed.  Perhaps,"  said  Ray, 
glancing  at  Ranty  with  a  wicked  look  in  his  dark  eyes,  "  Mr. 
Lawless  can  throw  a  little  light  on  the  subject.  He  and 
Erminie  are  very  confidential  friends  1  " 

Poor  Ranty  reddened  to  the  very  roots  of  h  hair  under 
the  imputation,  and  the  look  that  Lord  and  Laay  Je  Courcy 

gave  him. 

"  Never  mind,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Lord  De  Courcy,  kindly, 
as  he  saw  his  confusion.  "  Erminie  herself  shall  tell  us  all 
about  it  when  we  see  her." 


38o 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


M I  ' 


The  thought  of  him  who  lay  dying  checked  their  joy  at  xi  e 
approaching  reunion  ;  and  the  fear  that  he  might'  be  de^i 
hung  like  a  pall  over  the  heart  of  Ray. 

On  arriving  at  Judestown,  they  procured  a  conveyance 
from  Mr.  Gudge,  and  started  at  a  rapid  pace  for  the  Old 
Barrens  Cottage. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  they  reached  it,  and  all  around 
was  ominously  silent  and  still.  Ray's  heart  sunk  as  he 
pushed  open  the  door  and  entered. 

The  first  person  he  encountered  was  Pet  Lawless,  who 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  joy  as  she  beheld  him. 

"  Oh,  Petronilla  1  is  he  alive  yet  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Just  alive,  and  no  more.  The  doctor  says  he  has  only 
a  few  hours  to  live." 

"  Thank  Heaven  that  we  find  him  alive  at  all,"  said  Ray. 

Then  motioning  the  others  to  follow,  he  passed  into  the 
sitting-room. 

Ii  was  tenanted  only  by  the  dying  man  and  his  wife, 
Marguerite.  She  crouched  beside  him  just  as  Ray  had  seen 
her  last— just  as  if  she  had  never  risen  a  second  since. 

The  earl  and  countess  followed,  Ranty  coming  last.  Lady 
Maude  trembled  like  an  aspen,  and  clung  to  her  husband's 
arm  for  support. 

"  Father  !  "  said  Ray,  going  over,  and  bending  down. 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  up,  vacantly  at  first,  bift 
with  brighter  light  when  he  saw  who  it  was. 

"  Back  at  last  1  "  he  exclaimed.  "  And  her— have  you 
seen  her  ? '' 

"  She  is  here  beside  you.     Come,  my  dearest  mother  I  " 
He  supported  the  trembling  form  of  Lady  Maude  to  the 

couch,  and  she  sunk  down   beside  it  on  her  knees,  and  hid 

her  face  in  her  hands. 

A  light  seemed  to  flash  into  the  wan  face,  lighting  up  the 

sunken  eyes  of  the  dying  man.     He  half-raised  his  hand,  as 

if  to  take  hers,  and  then  it  fell  heavily  on  the  quilt. 


;I  "  he  cried    out,  "can  you  forgive  me 


"  Maude !  Maude 
before  I  die  ?  " 

She  looked  up,  lifted  her  pale,  beautiful  face  to  his,  laid 
her  hand  on  his  pallid  brow,  and  softly  and  sweetly  murmured : 

"  Yes,  as  I   hope  to  be  forgiven.     May  God  forgive  vou. 


MH 


joy  at  \i  e 
be  deai 

)nveyance 
the  Old 

11  around 
ik    as  he 

less,  who 


has  only 

said  Ray. 
;  into  the 

his  wife, 

had  seen 

nee. 

it.     Lady 

lusband's 

)wn. 
first,  but 


ave 


you 


;her  I  " 
de  to  the 
,  and  hid 

g  up  the 
hand,  as 

rgive  me 

his,  laid 
irmured : 
ive  you. 


1 


LADY  MAUDE. 


381 

spirit 


His  strong  chest  heaved,  rose  and  fell,  as  if  the 
within  were  trying  to  burst  its  bonds  before  the  time. 

•«  You  have  heard  all,  Maude  ?  " 

u  Yes ;  all — all." 

"  And'you  forgive  me  the  great  wrong  I  did  you,  Maude  ?  " 

"  Freely  and  fully,  from  my  heart  and  soul." 

"And  you  -.Till  acknowledge  our  son  when  I  am  gone? 
Oh,  Maude  1 1  loved  you  through  all.  I  was  unworthy  of 
you ;  but  I  loved  you  as  none  other  loved  before.  Maude, 
where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Who  ?     Reginald  ?  " 

a  Your— Lord  De  Courcy.     Is  he  here  ?  " 

"  Yes.     My  dear  old  friend,  I  am  sorry  for  this,"  said  the 

earl,  stepping  forward.  ,  r      j  x^    r- 

The  dying  rover  held  out  his  hand,  and  Lord  De  Courcy 
took  it  in  his  strong  clasp. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  come— f  am  glad  you  are  her 
protector  through  life.  Do  you  remember  our  last  parting, 
Lord  Ernest  ?  " 

"That  night?     Yes." 

"  Ah  1  that  night— that  night  I  What  a  different  man  I 
might  have  lived  and  died  but  for  that  dark,  sorrowful  night  I 
What  trouble  and  sorrow  that  night  caused  you,  tool  It 
turned  my  poor  mother's  brain,  Lord  Ernest ;  and— she  stole 
your  child  1  " 

"  I  know  it," 

"  Do  you  not  want  to  see  her  1— have  you  seen  her  ? 

"  Not  yet.     I  will  see  her  soon." 

"  Where  is  my  daughter,  Raymond  ? "  asked  Lady  Maude, 

looking  wistfully  round.  ^^       •  i    tj  «. 

"Up-stairs  with  her  grandmother,  madam,  said  Fet, 
respectfully.  "  She  does  not  know  you  are  here.  Shall  I  go 
and  tell  her." 

"  Not  just  yet,"  said  Lord  De  Courcy.  "  My  dearest  love, 
subdue  your  impatience  for  a  few  moments— remember,  you 
are  in  the  presence  of  the  dying.  You  have  waited  for  her 
all  these  years— yr;    can    afford  to    wait  a  few    moments 

longer  how."  . 

"  How  is  my  grandmother  ? "  asked  Ray,  :n  i  low  tone,  of 

Pet 

"  The  same  as  you  saw  her  last— in  a  sort  of  dull  stupor 


382 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


!l   ^ 


if  *i 


all  the  time  ;  neither  see?,  hears,  nor  feels,  apparently.  Ther 
brought  her  upstairs  this  morning,  and  Erminie  has  been 
with  iier  ^ince." 

"How  docs  Erminie  bear  the  news  of  her  new-found 
parents  ? " 

"Very  quietly— with  a  sort  of  still,  deep  joy  not  be  ex- 
pressed in  words.  She  says  she  always  knew  that  sweet, 
lovely  lady  with  the  soft,  beautiful  eyes  was  something  to  her! 
used  to  come  to  her  in  dreams,  or  something— odd,  ain't  it? 
And  she's  your  mother,  too,  Ray  I  I  declare,  it's  all  the 
strangest  and  most  romantic  thing  I  ever  heard  of  1  " 

"We,  too,  have  had  our  troubles,"'  said  the  dying  man, 
making  a  faint  motion  toward  Marguerite.  "  Perhaps  it 
was  a  just  retribution  of  heaven  for  what  you  were  made  to 
suffer.  We,  too  lost  a  child ;  had  she  lived,  even  I  might 
have  been  a  different  man  to-day.  She  was  lost,  and  all 
that  was  originally  good  in  my  nature  went  with  her.  My 
poor  little  Rita  1"  ^ 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  Rita  I  "  exclaimed  Maude,  as  she 
and  her  husband  gave  a  simultaneous  start. 

"  Yes.  Marguerite  was  her  name  ;  Rita  we  always  called 
her — why  ?  "  he  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  She  was  lost,  did  you  say  ?  How  ?  did  she  die  ?  "  breath- 
lessly demanded  Lady  Maude. 

"  No ;  she  was  carried  off,  perhaps  by  gipsies— she  was 
kidnapped." 

"  How  old  was  she  at  the  time  ?  " 

"  About  two  years  old— why  ?  "  for  the  first  time  spoke  the 
woman  Marguerite,  starting  up. 

"  Was  she  dark,  with  black  hair  and  eyes." 
"  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  O/i,  Mon  Dieu  /  why  ?  " 
"  Did  she  wear  a  cross  upon  her  neck  bearing  the  initials 
*  M.  I.  L.  ? ' "  wildly  broke  in  Marguerite.  "  A  little  gold 
cross  with  these  letters,  which  was  mine  when  I  was  a  girl, 
and  stood  for  Marguerite  Isabella  Landry,  my  maiden  name, 
was  round  her  neck.  Oh,  madam  !  in  heaven's  name,  do  you 
know  anything  of  my  child  }  " 

"  I  do  !  I  do  !  I  found  her,  I  brought  her  up  as  my  own 
and  she  lives  with  me  now.  Just  Heaven  1  how  mysterious 
are  thy  ways  I  "  exclaimed  the  awe-struck  Lady  Maude. 


LADY  MAUDE. 


383 


itly.  They 
i  has  been 

new-found 

not  be  ex- 

f^hat  sweet, 
ling  to  her, 
Id,  ain't  it  ? 
it's  all  the 
f  I" 

LJying  man, 
Perhaps  it 
re  made  to 
^n  I  might 
St,  and  all 
I  her.     My 

de,  as  she 

ays  called 

? "  breath- 

— she    was 


spoke  the 


he  initials 
little  gold 
was  a  girl, 
den  name, 
ne,  do  you 


There  was  a  wild  cry,  and  the  woman,  Marguerite,  fell 
faintinr  on  the  floor. 

Ray  bore  her  away  in  his  arms,  and  Pet  hastened  out  io 
attend  her.  At  the  same  moment  a  change  came  over  the 
face  of  the  gipsy's  son— a  dark  shadow  from  an  mvisibla 
wing— the  herald  of  coming  death. 

Both  held  their  breath.  Great  throes  shook  the  strong 
form  before  them,  and  the  deathdew  stood  in  great  drops  on 
his  brow.     Lady  Maude  wiped  them  off,  pale  with  awe. 

The  mighty  death  agony  ceased  at  last  and  there  came  a 
great  calm.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  fixed  them,  with  a  look 
of  unspeakable  love,  on  the  face  bending  over  him. 

«'  Maude,"  he  whispered,  in  a  voice  so  low  that  it  was 
scarcely  audible,  "  say  once  more  you  forgive  me." 

She  took  his  cold  hand  in  both  hers,  md  bending  down, 
touched  her  lips  to  his  pale  brow,  while  her  tears  fell  fast  on 

The  hand  she  held  grew  stiff  in  her  clasp ;  she  lifted  up  her 
head  and  her  heart  for  an  instant,  almost  ceased  to  beat. 
Reginald  Germaine,  the  wronged,  the  guilty,  was  dead  1 

"  May  God  have  mercy  on  his  soul  1 "  fervently  exclaimed 

Lady  Maude.  .      u     j 

"  Amen,"  sadly  and  solemnly  responded  her  husband. 
Both  arose.     At  the  same  moment  the  door  opened  and 

Ray  appeared,  holding  the  pale  and  agitated  Erminie  by  the 

hand.  ,    .  n        -j        u 

"  Your  father  and  mother,  Erminie,"  he  briefly  said,  as  he 

again  went  out  and  closed  the  door. 

And  in  the  dread,  chilling  presence  of  the  dead,  the  long- 
divided  parent  and  chikl  were  reunited  at  last  1 


ii 


s  my  own 
nysterious 
aude. 


ismm'=SrS=T^. 


rrr 


384 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i 


if  -^^    ■!. 


r.  1 


':'l 


i     - 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE    DAWN    OF    A    BRIGHTER    DAY. 

"  Thoughts  that  frown  upon  our  mirth 
Will  smile  upon  our  sorrow  ; 
And  many  dark  fears  of  to-day 
May  be  bright  hopes  to-morrow." 

— PiNCKNEV. 

That  same  night,  within  that  same  hour,  when  her  son  lay 
cold  and  stark  in  the  room  below,  the  fierce,  turbulent  spirit 
of  the  gipsy  queen  passed  away. 

Death  above,  and  death  below — the  cold,  dread,  invisible 
presence  pervading  the  whole  house  with  a  chilUng  awe. 
Voices  were  hushed  to  lowest  whispers,  footfalls  were  muf- 
fled ;  the  deep,  fervent  joy  of  the  reunited  held  in  check  by  its 
dread  majesty. 

There  was  a  subdued  luster  through  the  house  when  morn- 
ing broke.  Pet  and  Erminie,  very  pale  and  very  silent, 
had  arrayed  mother  and  son  for  the  grave ;  and  now,  side  by 
side,  they  lay,  white  and  still,  and  rigid,  in  the  pale,  leaden 
dawn  of  the  morning  that  dawned  for  them  in  vain.  Stern, 
and  still,  and  silent,  Ray  sat  by  the  bedside,  gazing  in  tear- 
less grief  on  the  lifeless  forms  before  him.  Near  him  sat 
Lord  De  Courcy,  with  a  look  of  deep  sadness,  which  not 
even  the  joy  of  meeting  Erminie  could  totally  efface  from 
his  fine  features.  Kneeling  beside  her  dead  husband,  with 
her  face  hidden  in  her  hands,  was  the  woman  Marguerite, 
swaying  backward  and  forward  in  voiceless  grief.  Her  first 
cry  had  been  to  be  restored  to  her  child,  but  Lady  Maude 
had  soothed  her  and  prevailed  upon  her  to  wait  until  they 
could  all  return  to  the  city  together.  Worn  out  and  fatigued 
by  her  rapid  journey,  Lady  Maude  lay  asleep  in  Erminie's 
little  bed  ;  and  Erminie,  sitting  beside  her  with  her  arms 
clasped  round  her  neck,  her  beautiful  head,  with  its  wreath 


tWflWiM*Mii; 


:nev. 

her  son  lay 
)ulent  spirit 

id,  invisible 
lining  awe. 
i  were  muf- 
heck  by  its 

vhen  morn- 

.^ery  silent, 

3W,  side  by 

ale,  leaden 

in.     Stern, 

:ng  in  tear- 

ar  him   sat 

which  not 

fface  from 

band,  with 

rlarguerite. 

Her  first 

dy  Maude 

until  they 

d  fatigued 

Erminie's 

her  arms 

its  wreath 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  BRIGHTER  DAY.        385 

of  golden  hair  lying  on  her  breast,  was  asleep  too.  Ranty 
Lawless  had  ridden  off  to  Judestown  to  prepare  for  the 
funeral,  good-naturedly  taking  upon  himself  all  the  trouble  in 
order  to  spare  Ray.  And  lastly  Petronilla,  looking  as  still 
and  serious  as  though  a  laugh  had  never  dimpled  her  cherry 
lips,  moved  on  tip-toe  about  the  house,  dressing  everything 
in  white,  arranging  flowers  in  vases,  and  imparting  a  soft- 
ened beauty  to  the  grim  reality  of  death. 

Early  in  the  day  the  news  spread  abroad,  and  sympathiz- 
ing neighbors  began  to  drop  in  with  offers  of  aid  and  assist- 
ance. Among  them  came  the  admiral,  looking  unspeakably 
doleful  and  lugubrious ;  and  when  Pet,  in  as  few  words  as 
possible,  related  what  had  happened,  the  dear,  crusty,  soft- 
hearted old  beau  was  so  affected  that  he  was  obliged  to  rush 
from  the  house  and  wipe  his  stormy  old  eyes,  unseen,  under 
the  lee  of  Ringbone,  which  gaunt  quadruped  regarded  him 
with  displeased  surprise.  Then  came  Mr.  Toosypegs  and 
Miss  Priscilla,  whose  sharp,  cankerous  face  had  grown  ten 
degrees  more  unyieldingly  sour  and  acid  with  every  passing 
year.  Poor  Mr.  Toosypegs  was  so  sincerely  grieved  at  the 
death  of  "  Mrs.  Ketura,"  that  he  took  out  his  bandanna  and 
relieved  his  mind,  then  ,     '.  there,  by  a  good  hearty  cry. 

It  was  all  like  a  dream  to  Erminie,  a  dream  of  mingled 
sorrow  and  joy.  Her  tears  fell  fast  for  her  whom,  deeply  as 
she  had  wronged  her,  sternly  as  1  had  ever  treated  her,  she 
still  loved  ;  but  they  fell  on  a  mother's  breast,  and  a  father's 
hand  rested  on  her  bowed  head.  She  could  scarcely  realize 
or  believe  all  that  had  happened  ;  and  she  watched  the  peo- 
ple come  and  go,  and  saw  the  I'feless  forms  closed  from 
view  beneath  the  coffin-lid,  and  saw  the  funeral-procession 
pass  from  the  house,  and  felt  the  chilling  sense  of  desolation 
that  a  funeral  always  brings.  Then  this,  too,  passed  ;  and 
she  saw  the  people  disperse  and  go  to  their  homes,  and 
the  white  shrouding  removed  from  the  rooms,  and  the  bright 
summer  sunshine  came  warmly  in,  and  then  all  began  to  be 
real — a  glad,  joyous  reality  at  last. 

"  And  now,  what  next  ?  "  said  Ray,  as  they  all  gathered 
together  in  the  little  parlor  of  the  cottage  when  all  was  over. 

"We  must  all  return  to  the  city,  next,"    said  Lord  De 

\^\ju.iCy,       iG  j.%.iLa.        xvu,  Oi  vOuisc,  my  ucui    uuy,  uic  uiic  «Jl 

the  family,  now." 


«'?'»«-  ~"0»im»*iafe. 


Tmsrinr-m — rr 


:i«  r 


386 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


i 


"  I  thank  you,  my  lord,  but  I  have  marked  out  my  fu- 
ture course  for  myself.  I  have  a  name  and  a  fortune  yet  to 
win." 

"  My  dearest  Ray,  you  would  not  leave  me,"  said  Lady 
Maude,  reproachfully,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

He  touched  his  lips  to  the  small,  white  hand,  and  said : 
"  I  cannot  be  a  dependent  on  any  one's  bounty,  not  even 
yours,  my  dear  mother.  You  would  not  have  me  fold  my 
arms  ignobly  and  become  a  worthless  drone  in  the  busy 
hive  of  this  world.  My  path  is  already  clear — an  uphill 
one  it  may  be — but  the  goal  I  aim  at  will  be  reached  at 
last." 

His  eyes  rested  half- unconsciously  on  Pet,  who  was  gazing 
very  intently  out  of  the  window  while  he  spoke.  Lord  De 
Courcy  saw  the  direction  of  his  glance,  and  smiled  slightly 
to  himself. 

"  But  you,  at  least,  will  not  think  of  leaving  us  so  soon," 
pleaded  Lady  Maude ;  "  consider  how  short  a  time  since  we 
have  met,  and  how  long  we  have  been  parted.  Indeed,  I 
will  not  hear  of  parting  with  you  yet." 

•'  Oh,  pray,  Ray,  don't  go,"  said  Erminie,  gently  ;  "  what 
could  we  all  ever  do  without  you  ?  Do  stay,  like  a  dear,  good 
boy." 

"  You  must  have  a  heart  of  flint  if  you  can  resist  all 
these  pleadings,"  said  Lord  De  Courcy,  drawing  Erminie 
fondly  toward  him.  "  Come,  Miss  Lawless,  will  you  not  aid 
my  little  girl,  here,  in  persuading  this  ungrateful  scapegrace 
of  ours  from  running  away  ?  " 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  use  in  me  asking  anybody  to  do  any- 
thing," said  Pet,  coloring  slightly,  yet  looking  saucy  still, 
"  because  they  never  do  it ;  if  Minnie — beg  pardon,  Lady 
Erminie,  can't  persuade  him,  then  there  is  no  use  in  my  try- 
ing." 

"  Now,  Pet,"  said  Erminie,  reproachfully,  and  blushing 
at  her  new-found  title. 

"  Come,  my  dear  boy,  consent  to  stay  with  us  for  some 
weeks,  at  least,"  said  Lady  Maude,  looking  up,  coaxingly,  in 
his  handsome  face. 

*  Your  ladyship's  will  is  my  law,"  said  Ray,  a  smile  break- 

:^^  ^U~..~i.   iU- !__„_   -r  u;_  t 

"  that  is  right  I  when  are  we  to  start,  my  lord  ?  " 


KmMMli 


iiMiMi 


out  my  fu- 
rtun€  yet  to 

said  Lady 
a. 

,  and  said : 
/,  not  even 
ne  fold  my 
I  the  busy 
—an  uphill 
reached  at 

was  gazing 

Lord  De 

ed  slightly 

s  so  soon," 

e  since  we 

Indeed,  I 

tly ;  "  what 
dear,  good 

1  resist  all 
ig  Erminie 
^ou  not  aid 
scapegrace 

to  do  any- 
saucy  still, 
don.  Lady 

in  my  try- 

i  blushing 

s  for  some 
axingly,  in 

nile  break* 
If 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  BRIGHTER  DAY.       3S7 

«  Early  to-morrow,  if  you  like.  Mrs.  Germaine,"  he  said, 
glancing  at  Marguerite,  "  I  know  is  impatient  to  embrace 
her  daugh'-er." 

'« I  v:i{  V.  ou  were  coming,  too,  Pet,"  said  Erminie,  going 
over  and    utting  her  arm  around  Pet's  small  waist. 

"  And  why  can  she  not  ?  "  said  Lady  Maude,  looking 
kindly  down  in  Pet's  changing  face  ;  "  we  will  be  delighted 
to  have  her  with  us.     Do  come,  my  dear." 

"  I  thank  your  ladyship,  but  I  cannot." 

"  Now,  Pet,  why  ?  You  can  come  if  you  Uke,"  said 
Ermine. 

"  Indeed  I  can't,  Erminie.  I  must  stay  and  console  uncle 
Harry  for  your  loss.  The  man-of-war  on  the  mantelpiece 
will  be  quite  inadequate  to  the  task,  and  there  he  will  be  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes,  rending  his  garments  and  tearing  his 
hair—" 

*'  His  wig,  you  mean,"  broke  in  Ranty. 

"Ranty,  be  still.  I  should  like  to  oblige  you.  Lady  Er- 
minie, but  you  perceive  I  can't.  It  is  one  of  the  cardinal 
virtues  consoling  the  afflicted,  and  I  am  trying  to  cultivate 
all  the  virtues  preparatory  to  taking  the  black  veil  one  of 
these  days,  and  becoming  a  nun." 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,"  said  Ray,  coming  over. 

"  Well,  but  you  can't  help  it,  you  know,"  said  Pet,  turning 
red,  but  flashing  defiance  in  a  way  that  made  Lady  Maude 
smile,  and  reminded  Erminie  of  the  Pet  of  other  days ;  "  and 
now  I  really  must  go  before  it  gets  any  later.  Erminie,  Pll 
come  over  early  to-morrow  and  see  you  off,  so  I  will  not  bid 
you  good-by  now.     Ranty — " 

"Oh,  never  mind  Ranty,"  interposed  Ray;  "let  me  be 
your  escort  home  for  once,  Pet.  Come,  do  not  refuse  me 
now.     I  have  a  great  many  things  to  say  to  you." 

Pet  colored  vividly,  but  she  did  not  refuse,  and  nodding  a 
good-by  to  the  rest,  they  left  the  cottage  together. 

"  Can  we  not  prevail  upon  you  at  least  to  accompany  us 
back  to  the  city  ? "  said  Lord  De  Courcy  to  Ranty,  when  they 
were  gone. 

Ranty  hesitated,  and  glanced  at  Erminie,  who  blushed,  of 

course. 

''-  Come,  say  yes,  Mr.  Lawless,"  said  Lord  De  Courcy, 
laying  his  hand  on  Ranty's  shoulder,  in  his  kind,  cordial 


,.  ''ym¥.*mmm^um>mmi':,'mi*^- 


LMm  nk  m  ikjtt 


388 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I    i,' 


manner 


Erminie  must  not  part  with  all  her  old  friends  at 
once.'* 

"  Besides,  you  have  not  seen  Rita,  you  know,  Mr.  Lawless," 
added  Lady  Maude,  with  her  own  peculiar  winning  smile ; 
"  and  she  will  be  exceedingly  glad  to  meet  you  once  more. 
You  really  must  come  now." 

Still  Ranty  hesitated,  and  looked  unspeakable  things  at  Er- 
minie. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,"  said  the  earl.  "  Mr.  Lawless  won't 
consent  unless  Erminie  seconds  the  invitation.  Come,  my 
love,  tell  him  he  must  come." 

"  I — I  will  be  very  glad  to  have  Ranty  with  us,"  said  Er- 
minie, blushing  most  becomingly. 

"  Very  well,  that  settles  the  matter,  I  hope,  my  young 
friend." 

"  My  lord,  I  shall  only  be  too  happy  to  accept  your  kind 
invitation  1 "  exclaimed  Ranty,  all  in  a  glow  of  delight. 
*'  Nothing  could  give  me  more  pleasure  than  to  meet  Lady 
Rita  again." 

So  it  was  arranged  they  should  start  the  following  morning. 
Pet  rode  over  to  see  Erminie  off,  and  tears  stood  in  the 
dancing  eyes  of  the  elf  as  she  bade  her  good-by.  As  for 
Ermine,  she  wept  audibly  as  the  carriage  rolled  away,  and 
the  home  of  her  childhood  was  left  far  behind.  She  strained 
her  eyes  to  catch  a  last  glimpse  of  the  pretty  little  vine- 
embower  d  cottage  on  the  lonely  bank,  and  watched  the 
blinding  top  of  the  White  Squall  fading  away  in  the  distance 
as  if  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  old  friend.  Then  came  Dis- 
mal Hollow,  and  at  the  verge  of  the  wood  they  encountered 
Toosypegs,  on  horseback,  waiting  to  bid  Erminie  farewell. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Er- 
minie, putting  her  little  snow-flake  of  a  hand  out  of  the 
window  to  greet  him.  "  How  do  you  do,  and  how  is  Miss 
Priscilla  ?  " 

"  Thanky,  Miss  Minnie,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  in  a  de- 
jected tone.  "  I  ain't  well  at  all.  I'm  very  much  obliged  to 
you,  and  aunt  Prisciller — well,  the  old  gander  broke  his  leg 
this  morning,  and  she  ain't — well,  she  ain't  in  as  good 
spirits  as  she  might  be.  Miss  Minnie,  you  ain't  going  to  be 
long  away,  are  you  ?  " 

"  That  does  not  depend  on  me  now,  Mr,  Toosypegs."  said 


$Mifei«!tiM«tAMaiiM,iaaM'»3 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  BRIGHTER  DAY.       389 


I  friends  at 

,  Lawless," 
ling  smile ; 
once  more. 

lings  at  Er- 

'less   won't 
Come,  my 

,"  said  Er- 

my   young 

your  kind 
of  delight, 
meet  Lady 

ig  morning, 
ood  in  the 
>y.     As  for 

away,  and 
Ihe  strained 

little  vine- 
i^atched  the 
he  distance 
1  came  Dis- 
ncountered 

farewell. 
,"  said  Er- 
)ut    of   the 
low  is  Miss 

s,  in  a  de- 
h  obliged  to 
•oke  his  leg 
in  as  good 
going  to  be 


Erminie,  smiling.  "  You  know  I  have  got  a  father  and 
mother  to  take  care  of  me  now." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  mournfully ;  "  it's 
going  to  be  horrid  lonesome  when  you  are  gone  ;  I  know  it 
is.  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born  !  I  declare  to  goodness  I 
do  1  People  may  say  what  they  like,  but  I  don't  see  where's 
the  good  of  it,"  said  Mr,  Toosypegs,  with  a  subdued  howl. 

"  Come,  Horlander  I  take  things  easy,"  suggested  Ranty, 
poking  his  head  out  through  the  opposite  window.     "  Care 

killed  a  cat." 

«'  It's  all  very  well  to  say,  '  take  things  easy,  Master 
Ranty,"  said  Mr.  Toosypegs,  wiping  his  eyes  with  the  cuff 
of  Ms  coat-sleeve  ;  "but  if  you  were  in  my  place — in  love — a 

I  moan  going  to  part  with  Miss  Minnie,  and  never  see  her 

again,  I  don't  see  how  you  could  take  it  easy  either.  I  dare 
say  you  mean  real  well  in  telling  me  so.  Master  Ranty,  but  I 
can't  do  it  at  all.  Good-by,  Miss  Minnie,"  said  poor  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  sobbing  outright.  "  I  don't  expect  ever  to  see 
you  again  in  this  world — my  feelings  are  in  that  state  that  I 
will  soon  be  a  melancholy  corpse.     I  know  very  well  I  will." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Toosypegs,  I  hope  not ;  you  only  think  so. 
Give  my  love  to  Miss  Priscilla,  and  tell  her  I'll  send  her 
a  new  shawl  from  Baltimore.  Good-by."  And  with  a  smile, 
Erminie  fell  back,  and  the  carriage  drove  on,  unhappy  O.  C. 
Toosypegs  wiping   his  eyes,  and  snuffling,  in  the  middle  of 

the  road. 

Nothing  of  any  importance  occurred  during  the  remainder 
of  the  journey.  The  whole  party  arrived  safely  in  the  city, 
and  were  domesticated  with  the  friend  in  whose  house  the 
earl  and  countess  were  staying. 

The  duty  of  informing  Rita  of  her  new-found  parentage 
devolved  upon  Lady  Maude.  In  the  gentlest  and  kindest 
manner  possible,  she  performed  her  task ;  and  great  was  the 
astonishment  and  greater  the  mortification  of  the  supercilious 
little  lady  on  learning  who  she  really  was.  "  Some  natural 
tears  she  shed;"  but  when  the  countess  informed^  her  she 
was  still  to  reside  with  them  as  before,  and  not  being  com- 
pletely selfish  after  all,  she  consented  at  last  to  wipe  them, 
and  met  her   mother  with  quite  a  decent  show  of  affection. 

lo    olacne.l     thf   lif-tlp   D-ilrled.   p-litterin&- 


-1.  Oui 


'pegs. 


said 


butterfly  to  her  breast,  and  wept  over  her  with  a  passionate 


390 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I*  III'*: 


1 


love  that  touched  every  heart.  There  was  a  perceptible 
coldness  and  jealousy  in  the  dainty  little  lady's  greeting  of 
Erminie,  whom  she  looked  upon  as  a  rival  and  natural  enemy  ; 
but  the  gentleness  and  sweetness  of  the  new-found  heiress 
were  not  to  be  resisted ;  and  before  they  all  separated  for 
the  night  Lady  Rita  made  up  her  mind  that  matters  were, 
after  all,  by  no  means  so  bad  as  she  had  at  first  supposed. 

Ray  passed  a  week  with  the  family  in  Baltimore,  and  then 
returned  to  Judestown — on  business,  he  said,  but  as  more 
than  one  of  the  party  shrewdly  guessed,  to  see  Pet.  He 
found  her  worthy  father  at  home,  and  unbounded  was  the 
astonishment  of  that  most  upright  gentleman  upon  learning 
all  that  had  transpired  during  his  absence.  Inwardly  he  re- 
joiced at  the  annihilation  of  the  gang  of  smugglers,  and  fer- 
vently thanked  his  stars  that  his  own  connection  with  them 
'lad  not  been  discovered. 

But  another  surprise  was  in  store  for  him  when  Ray  ap- 
peared before  him  and  formally  solicited  the  hand  of  his 
daughter.  Ray  Germaine,  the  gipsy's  grandsoTi,  and  Ray 
Germaine,  Lady  De  Courcy's  son,  were  two  \  ery  different 
personages  ;  and  his  worship,  the  judge,  was  graciously 
pleased  to  give  a  prompt  assent.  The  first  would  have  been, 
in  no  very  choice  terms,  shown  the  door ;  the  latter  was 
taken  by  the  hand  and  cordially  told,  after  the  manner  of 
fathers  in  the  play,  to  "  take  her  and  be  happy,"  which  Pet  as- 
sured him  he  would  find  some  difficulty  in  being,  once  she 
was  his  wife. 

And  so  our  Pet  was  engaged  at  last ;  and  Ray  returned 
to  Baltimore  to  inform  his  friends  of  his  success  and  make 
arrangements  for  their  marriage,  which  the  judge,  who 
thought  it  would  be  something  added  to  his  already  over- 
whelming dignity  to  be  father-in  law  of  the  son  of  a  peeress, 
desired  might  tt^ke  place  as  soon  as  possible. 

Erminie  clapped  her  hands  with  delight  when  she  heard  of 
it,  and  Lady  Maude,  whose  heart  the  wild  elf  had  taken  by 
storm,   expressed  her  heartfelt  pleasure. 

'*  And  you  must  return  with  us  to  England  as  soon  as 
you  are  married,"  said  Lord  De  Courcy,  to  the  bride- 
groom-elect. 

xiliu   Vv\j    will  ail  ixvc  Li-tJ^CLllcl.         \Jll,    it  will  UC  OU  iliL;c   lU  uu 

near  Pet  \  "  said  Erminie  delightedly. 


rceptible 
eeting  of 
1  enemy ; 
I  heiress 
rated  for 
rs  were, 
jposed. 
and  then 

as  more 
»et.     He 

was  the 

learning 
lly  he  re- 

and  fer- 
ith  them 

Ray  ap- 
d  of  his 
md  Ray 
diflFerent 
raciously 
ive  been, 
atter  was 
anner  of 
:h  Pet  as- 
Dnce  she 

returned 
nd  make 
Ige,  who 
ady  over- 
.  peeress, 

heard  of 
taken  by 

soon  as 
he  bride- 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  BRIGHTER  BAY.       391 

Rav  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  We  may  accompany  you  to   England,  as  both  Pet  and  I 
desire  to  visit  it,  but  our  future  home  must  be  here. 

-  Why  not  in  England  as  well  as  here  ?  "   asked  his  lord- 

^^«?bh.  well,  for  many  reasons.  One  is,  Petronilla  would 
never  consent;  another  is  that  I  am  too  niuch  attached  to 
This  land  of  my  adoption  to  wish  to  leave  it  for  any  other 
and  thirdly  and  lastly,  1  have  already  attained  some  slight 
degree  of  f^ame  in  m/ profession  here,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
lose  it  now  bv  going  to  another  land." 

'Burmy  deiest  boy,  I  do  not  like  the  idea  of  being  so 
far  separated  from  you,"  said  Lady  Maude,  anxiously. 

« Oh  to  cross  the  Atlantic  is  a  mere  pleasure-trip  now, 
my  dekr  mother,"  laughed  Ray ;  "so  we  will  meet  at  m- 
"rvals,  after  ^  all.     As  I  intend  to  be  a  great  man   one  of 

'^'fvof  c7n"  be  that,  easily,  by  growing  fat,"  interrupted 
Rantv  "You  can't  be  reached  now  with  anything  less 
than  a  ten-foot  pole ;  and  if  you  only  grow  stout  with  years, 
ril  back  you  against  any  man  in  the  community  for  great- 
ness    Yol'll  rf  ake  Daniel  Lambert  himself   look  to   his 

^^"J' By  "the  way,  Erminie,  I  have  a  messag.  for  you  frorn 
your  old  admire?  Mr.  Toosypegs,"  said  Ray.  "^^.^^^e 
Sn't  bear  the  idea  of  letting  you  go  without  seeing  you 
again:    so  he  is  coming  here,  and  the  admiral  with  him. 

"Misj  PrisciUa  ought  to  come,  too,  ana  make  the  party 
complete,"  said  Ranty.  "  I  wonder  she  is  so  imprudent  as 
to  let  that  innocent  youth  journey  so  far  alone  ^he're  ^^ 
no  telling  what  may  happen  to  him  in  a  depraved  place  like 

^^  - 1  am  sure  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  Mr.  Toosypegc.  again, 
and  the   dear  old  admiral.     Oh,  I  do  love  him,"  exclaimed 

^'^r  wish  I  could  get  you  to  say  that  about  his  nephew,'* 
said  Ranty,  with  an  appealing  look.  ^x.    ^  ^^ 

Lord  De  Courcy  smiled  encouragingly  on  the  youth  as.tc 
gether  with  Lady  Maude,  he  left  the  room. 


_giri4" '"" " 


39a 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


f 


CHAPTER  XL. 

tHIEFLY      MATRIMONIAL. 

"  There  is  a  love  which,  born 
In  early  days,  lives  on   through  silent  years." 
"  Love  is  life's  end." 

— Spe;nser. 

Erminie — Lady  Erminie  now — sat  in  an  elegantly-fur- 
nished library,  pulling  a  costly  bouquet  wantonly  to  pieces, 
and  looking  excessively  lovely  in  her  dress  of  pale-blue  silk 
and  white  lace. 

Pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  as  if  for  a  wager,  was 
Master  Ranty  Lawless,  with  a  look  as  nearly  approaching 
the  intensely  gloomy  as  was  possible  for  his  handsome, 
happy  face  to  wear. 

"  Why,  Ranty,  what  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with  you 
this  morning  ?  "  said  Erminie,  at  last,  opening  her  sweet  blue 
eyes  very  wide  in  innocent  wonder. 

"  Lady  Erminie,  I'm  going  away,  this  very  morning  ;  and 
what's  more,  I'm  never  going  to  come  back  !  I'll  be  swung 
to  the  yard-arm  if  I  do  1  "  was  the  unexpected  answer,  de- 
livered with  a  savage,  jerking  abruptness  that  made  Erminie 
drop  her  flowers  and  half  rise  from  her  seat  in  consternation. 

"Why,  Ranty — why,  Ranty!  How  can  you  talk  so  r 
What  has  happened  ?  What  is  the  matter  >  Ar  i  you  going 
crazy  ? " 

"  What's  happened  ?  Everything's  happened,  everything's 
the  matter,  and  I  am  going  crazy,  if  it's  any  consolation  to 
you  to  learn  it.  Yes,  you  may  look  surprised.  Lady  Erminie 
Germaine,  or  De  Courcy,  or  whatever  your  name  m^y  be, 
but  you  are  the  cause  of  it  all ;  and  you  know  it  too,  for  all 
you  sit  up  there  looking  as  innocent  and  unconscious  as  it 
IS  nossiblG  for  any  voun^  woman  to  look.  Never  mind 
though;  I  don't  care  I     Just  go  on,  Lady  Erminie  1     You'll 


iSiaiiliiai 


■MMi 


MMtMkMte 


for  all 

it 
.A 


CHIEFLY  MATRIMONIAL. 


393 


;tnd  what  a  nice  young  man  you've  lost,  when  it's  too  late  1 " 
said  Ranty,  striding  up  and  down,  and  looking  ferociously 
at  poor  Erminie. 

"  Oh,  Ranty  1  how  can  you  go  on  so  ?  What  have  I 
done  ?  "  said  Erminie,  twisting  her  fingers,  and  looking  up 
with  shining,  tearful  eyes,  looking  so  pretty  and  innocent  in 
her  distress  that  Ranty's  better  angel  prompted  him  to  go 
over  and  caress  away  ^er  tears  on  the  spot. 

But  Ranty  was  angry  and  didn't  do  anything  of  the  kind. 
On  the  contrary,  he  grew  twice  as  fierce  as  before,  and  strode 
up  and  down  twice  as  rapidly,  bursting  out  with : 

"What  have  you  done?  There's  a  question  I  What 
haven't  you  done,  I  want  to  know  ?  You  knew  very  well  I 
loved  you,  and  paid  attention  to  you  since  you  were  the  size 
of  a  well-grown  doughnut,  and  when  you  hadn't  a  cent  to 
bless  yourself  with.  You  know  I  did.  Lady  Erminie,  and 
you  needn't  deny  it.  Well,  your  father  and  mother  turn  up, 
and  you  find  yourself  a  fine  lady,  and  after  that  you  grow 
stiff  and  dignified,  and  keep  me  at  a  distance,  as  Paddy  did. 
the  moon,  and  flirt  with  every  bescented,  behair-oiled  jack- 
anapes that  squirms,  and  bows,  and  simpers,  and  makes 
fools  of  themselves,  and  talk  with  all  sorts  of  soft  nonsense 
to  you!  You  know  you  do.  Lady  Erminie,  and  I  repeat  it, 
you  needn't  deny  it  1  Here  was  last  night,  at  that  concert, 
soiree,  or  tea-party,  or  whatever  it  was,  didn't  you  let  that 
contemptible  fool,  the  Honorable  Augustus  Ahringfeldt, 
make  the  strongest  sort  of  love  to  you  the  whole  blessed 
evening.  Honorable,  indeed  1  A  pretty  honorable,  he  is, 
all  hair  and  conceit,  like  a  scented  orang-outang  1  "  sneered 
Ranty,  elevating  his  Roman  nose  to  the  loftiest  angle  of 
scorn. 

•'  Indeed — indeed,  Ranty,  I  couldn't  help  it !  He  talked 
to  me,  and  I  had  to  answer  him,  and  you  never  came  near 
me  all  the  time,"  said  Erminie  with  tears  of  distress  in  her 
gentle  blue  eyes. 

"  No  ;  the  thumb-screws  of  the  Holy  Office  wouldn't  have 
got  a  word  out  of  mel"  said  Ranty,  fiercely.  "Do  you 
think  I  was  going  to  thrust  myself  forward  where  I  wasn't 
wanted  ?  No,  Lady  Erminie  De  Courcy ;  though  you  may  be 
above  me  in  rank  and  wealth,  I  can  have  as  much  pride  as 
you  can  yet ;  and  if  you  think  fit  to  cut  my  acquaintance 


■•  U^-iiHiitai*; ' 


!in  Ti '  IS  1  ui  I ' 


394 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


!  : 
(  I 


you  are  perfectly  welcome  to  do  it.  I  am  going  away  this 
afternoon,  and  I  am  not  likely  to  trouble  you  any  more ;  but 
first  I'll  punch  the  head  of  that  sweet  seraph,  the  Honorable 
Augustus — hanged  if  I  don't  I  Lady  Erminie,  good-by  !  I'm 
off  for  a  voyage  to  Constantinople  ;  and  if  you  hear  that  the 
sultan  has  had  me  bow-strung,  or  bastinadoed,  or  pitched  into 
the  Bosphorus,  or  that  I  have  committed  suicide,  or  any- 
thing, I  hope  you'll  drop  a  tear  to  the  memory  of  the  little 
boy  in  roundabout-jackets  who  used  to  go  sailing  and 
making  love  with  you  at  old  Judestown." 

Here  Ranty  dropped  his  voice  to  the  deeply-pathetic,  and 
held  out  his  hand  mournfully  to  Erminie.  But  that  young 
lady's  hands  were  up  before  her  face,  and  she  seemed 
in  a  fair  way  to  comply  with  his  request  to  drop  a  tear  to 
his  memory ;  for  she  was  sobbing  away  convulsively. 

"  There,  now  I  I've  went  and  set  you  a-crying  I  "  exclaimed 
Ranty,  in  a  tone,  or  rather  howl,  of  mingled  remorse  and 
distraction.  "  That's  always  the  way  I  go  and  put  my  foot 
in  whatever  I  go  to  do  1  I  am  a  brute  1  a  crocodile  !  a  sea- 
serpent  I  a  monster  1  an  unmitigated  bear  !  and  I  deserve  a 
sound  flogging  for  speaking  to  you  as  I  did.  Erminie  I  dear 
Erminie  1  dearest  Erminie  I  forgive  me,  like  a  good  girl.  It 
was  all  owing  to  that  hairy-faced  fool,  Ahringfeldt — I  swear 
it  was  !  I  was  jealous  of  him  1  madly  jealous  I  the  effem- 
inate little  cream-candy  puppy  1  Dear  Erminie,  forgive  me  I 
Dearest  Erminie,  look  up  and  say  I  am  forgiven,  or  I  will  go 
to  the  nearest  apothecary's,  and  put  an  end  to  my  miserable 
existence  with  a  gallon  or  two  of  Prussic  acid.  Dear,  dearest, 
darling  Erminie  I  only  say  you  forgive  me  1  "  pleaded  Ranty, 
kneeling  before  her,  and  gently  withdrawing  her  hands  from 
before  her. 

Erminie  looked  up  imploringly  through  her  tears. 

"  Oh,  Ranty  1  how  can  you  say  such  dreadful  things  ?  Oh, 
/ou  frighten  me  to  death  1  Promise  me  you  will  not  kill 
yourself  ;  it  is  so  wicked,  you  know  !  " 

"  Beside  being  disagreeable  to  be  sat  on  by  a  coroner  and 
a  dozen  asses  of  jurymen.  Well,  I  won't,  if  you  will  promise 
me  one  thing." 

"  Oh,  Ranty  !  I  will  promise  anything  if  you  will  not  do 
it" 

"  Will  you,  though  ?     Oh,  Erminie !  you're  a  nice  young 


CHIEFLY  MATRIMONIAL. 


395 


iway  this 
lore ;  but 
lonorable 
by !  I'm 
r  that  the 
ched  into 
,  or  any- 
the  little 
ling   and 

letic,  and 

at  young 

seemed 

a  tear  to 

y- 

xclaimed 
lorse  and 
my  foot 
e  1  a  sea- 
leserve  a 
nie  1  dear 
girl.  It 
-I  swear 
le  effem- 
give  me  I 
I  will  go 
niserable 
,  dearest, 
d  Ranty, 
nds  from 


js  ?     Oh, 
not  kill 

roner  and 

I  promise 

II  not  do 
ce  young 


woman  I     Well,  I  want  you  to  be  my  dear,  little  blue-eyed 
wife.     Now,  then,  say  yes." 

B  c  Erminie,  with  a  bright  blush  and  a  little  surprised 
scream,  threw  up  her  hands  and  covered  her  face. 

"  Now,  Erminie,  that's  no  answer  at  all,"  said  Ranty, 
taking  down  tne  hands.  "  You  don't  know  what  a  capital 
husband  I'll  make.  You  can't  begin  to  have  the  remotest 
idea  of  it,  you  know.  Come,  Erminie,  say  yes — there's  a 
good  girl." 

"  Oh,  Ranty  I  " 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  girls  always  look  flustered  in  cases  like 
this ;  but,  somehow,  they  manage  to  say  yes,  after  all.  Now, 
Erminie,  if  you  don't  say  yes,  I'll  go  right  straight  off  for  the 
Prussic  acid — mind  that  1  " 

"  Well,  yes,  then,"  said  Erminie,  blushing,  and  laughing, 
and  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder. 

«'  Gloria  in  excelsis  1  alleluia !  hurrah  1  Oh,  Erminie  1  my 
own  little  darling  1  you  have  made  me  the  happiest  man  from 
here  to  the  antipodes.  Oh,  Erminie  1  I  knew  you  would,  all 
along  1  I  always  thought  you  had  too  much  good  sense  to 
reject  me  for  a  puppy  like  the  Honorable  Augustus  1  "  ex- 
claimed Ranty,  in  a  rapture.  "Oh,  Erminie  1  I'll  give  you 
leave  to  cowhide  me  within  an  inch  of  my  life  if  I  ever  give 
you  a  cross  look  or  word  again  1     Oh,  Erminie — " 

The  sudden  opening  of  the  library-door  cut  short  his 
interminable  string  of  interjections  in  which  Ranty  would 
have  indulged,  and  the  next  moment.  Lord  De  Courcy  stood 
looking  with  grave  surprise  on  the  two  lovers. 

"  Ah  1  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  blandly,  as  Ranty  sprung 
to  his  feet.  "  I  was  not  aware  there  was  any  one  here. 
Excuse  me  for  interrupting  you."  And  with  a  bow  and  an 
almost  imperceptible  smile,  he  was  turning  away,  when  Ranty 
stepped  forward,  and  said : 

"  Hold  on,  my  lord.  There's  a  little  matter  to  be  arranged 
here,  which  may  as  well  be  done  now  as  any  other  time.  I 
love  your  daughter  and  have  told  her  so,  and  your  daughter 
loves  me,  and  has  told  me  so  ;  and  all  we  want  is  your 
lordship's  consent  to  our  union.  I  may  not  be  quite  her 
equal  in  wealth,  and  rank,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  in  your 
Q^Tiic  .  VjM+-  Tc  3  frfts-bnrn  American  citizen,  and  an  indepen- 
dent '  sovereign '  in  my  own  right,   and  possessing  a  strong 


■  i«**«i4ii»iK:  ..-iiw-*... 


356 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


I 


arm,  a  stout  heart,  and  a  clear  conscience,  I  f(  <  1  myself  as 
"'or  as  the  best  loid,  duke,  or  Sir  Harry  in  all  Great 
i  ..  ii,  and  so,  my  lord,  if  you  will  give  nie  your  daughter,  I 
•fill  u^y  to  prove  myself  wortliy  of  the  gift." 

Thib  plain,  straightforward  speech,  delivered  wrth  head 
erect,  shouldery  thrown  b.ick.  and  Master  Ranty  drawn  up 
to  tiie  full  extent  of  his  six  feet  odd  inches,  evidently  did  n.t 
dii^please  the  'rl.  He  turned  to  Erminie,  whose  blushing 
face  was  hid  again,  and  said,  with  a  smile: 

"And  what  says  my  lit'*?  girl  ?  Has  she  authorized  her 
oU\  friend  to  say  all  this?  " 

"  Yes,  father,"  v/hispered  Erminie,  throwing  her  arms 
around  his  neck. 

"  Well,  then,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  consent,"  said  the 
earl,  rising.  "Right,  my  hoy,"  he  said,  slapping  Ranty 
heartily  on  the  shoulder;  "you  are  as  good  as  any  man 
.iving,  and  I  like  your  bold,  independent  spirit.  And  now, 
as  I  am  i/e  trop  here,  I  shall  go  and  tell  her  ladyship  that  she 
is  about  to  lose  her  new-found  daughter  again,"  said  the  earl, 
as  he  left  the  room. 

A  d  for  the  next  hour,  Ranty  and  Erminie  were  just  as 
perfectly  happy  as  it  is  possible  for  any  two  denizens  of 
this  rather  unhappy  world  to  be. 

It  was  arranged  that  the  marriage  of  Ranty  and  Erminie 
should  take  place  on  the  same  day  as  that  of  Ray  and  Pet, 
and  that  the  whole  party  should  sail  for  England  together. 

And  three  days  after,  came  our  whole  party  from  Judes- 
town  in  a  body,  consisting  of  the  judge,  pompous  and  im- 
portant, but  inwardly  wincing  a  little  at  the  thought  of 
meeting  Erminie;  Ray,  handsome,  and  happy,  and  quite 
unlike  his  usual  haughty  self;  Pet,  bright,  defiant,  saucy,  and 
sparkling  as  ever ;  the  admiral,  in  a  high  state  of  beatitude 
and  a  new  frock-coat  with  eye-dazzling  brass  buttons ;  Mr. 
Toosypegs,  arrayed  in  a  complete  new  suit  to  do  honor  to 
the  occasion,  and  looking  mildly  melancholy  ;  and  last,  but 
by  no  means  least.  Miss  Priscilla,  as  stiff,  grim,  sour,  rigid 
and  upright  as  a  church  steeple. 

Erminie  flew  down  to  meet  them,  and  rushed  i.^to  the  arms 
of  Pet,  who  favored  her  with  a  crushing  hug  ;  ar;d  t:h(-i  she 
kissed  Miss  Priscilla.  who  ofincrprlv  nrpsent^^  I  .,-  -n  XrXp.A 
cheek  for  that  operation  ;  and  then  she  shook  hands  with 


mUmIhi 


CHIEFLY  MATRIMONIAL. 


397 


jlusluiig 


Mr.  Toosypegs,  who  repressed  a  groan  of  despair  as  she  did 
so ;  and  then  she  finish  d  her  greetings  by  l,i rcving  her  arms 
around  the  admiral's  ni    k  and  kissing  hi'    t   .>, 

'*  Sf.xnd  from  under !  "  roared  the  admiral,  with  a  tremen- 
dous burst  of  laughter.  "  So  you're  going  to  get  spliced  to 
Ranty,  Snowflake  ?  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  Who'd  'n'  thought  it  ?  Lord  I 
how  pretty  you  are,  mywayl  A  id  how's  your  father  aud 
that  nice-looking  woman,  your  mother  ?  I  hope  she's  pretty 
jolly,"  said  the  admiral,  politely. 

Erminie  laughed,  and  replied  that  she  was  as  jolly  as 
could  be  expected. 

"  And  so  you're  going  to  England,  Miss  Minnie,  and 
never  going  to  come  back?  "said  Mr,  Toosypegs,  mourn- 
fully. "  I'm  real  sorry — I'm  dreadfully  sorry.  Miss  Minnie. 
I  do  assure  you  I  am.  It's  awfully  lonesome  now,  at  the  cot- 
tage. I  can't  bear  to  go  near  it  at  all,  it  recalls  the  past  so 
much.  Miss  Minnie,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  ever  do  when 
you're  gone  at  all — I  just  don't  1  " 

'*  Horlando,  hold  your  tongue  1 "  snarled  Miss  Priscilla. 
And  her  dutiful  nephew  shut  up  like  a  jack-knife.  "  You're 
foreverlastin'  a-talkin' ;  and  a-talkin'  nonsense  at  that.  Miss 
Minnie,  I  want  to  take  hoff  my  things  which  is  hinc  >nvenient 
to  wear  in  the  'ouse,  besides  wanting  to  be  folded  uj'  and  put 
away,  to  keep  them  from  sp'lin'." 

Erminie  smilingly  rung  the  bell,  and  ordered  the  servant 
to  show  Miss  Priscilla  to  her  room  ;  and,  at  the  sa  ne  mo- 
ment. Lady  Rita,  impelled  perhaps  by  curiosity,  as  n.uch  as 
anything  else, '  o  see  those  "  rustics,"  as  she  called  them, 
swept  majestically  in,  glittering  in  silk,  and  lace,  and  jewels, 
until  she  fairly  dazzled  the  eyes. 

Erminie  rose,  and  presented  her  as  her  "  sister.  Lady 
Rita."  Her  little  ladyship  curled  her  fastidious  lip  slij.  htly, 
made  a  profoundly  formal  courtesy,  and  gracefully  and 
superciliously  sunk  into  the  downy  depths  on  a  lounge,  md 
thought  inwardly  what  an  "  absurd  set  of  the  lowest  pt  pie 
mamma  was  gathering  about  her  1 " 

But  from  the  moment  Mr.  Toosypegs  set  eyes  on  he 
bright  little  meteor,  he  was  done  for  1  Pet  was  forgott.  n  ; 
so  was  Erminie.  Both,  in  his  eyes,  were  eclipsed  by  t-iis 
rmniAan.xvir>rrf^r\  rainhow-f intpfl.  little,  snarklin?  vision.      Poor 


^»*--"-'-"'' ' 


^~:«aati6iaaiiaij; 


^MMnr~^^T^^ 


398 


THE  GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW. 


Mr.  Toosypegs,  for  the  third  time,  was  deeply  and  hopeless- 
ly in  love  I 

Three  days  after,  the  double-marriage  took  place,  private- 
ly, by  the  desire  of  all  parties.  None  but  the  friends  of  the 
brides  were  present ;  and  immediately  after  the  ceremony  the 
farewells  were  spoken,  and  the  bridal  cortege  drove  down  to 
the  steamer  that  was  to  convey  them  to  the  Old  World. 

Straining  their  eyes  to  catch  a  last  glance  of  the  shore  they 
were  leaving,  our  bridal-party  stood  on  the  steamer's  deck, 
Erminie  leaning  on  her  husband's  arm,  and  Pet  leaning  on 
hers,  both  with  eyes  full  of  tears.  Near  them  stood  Lady 
Maude  and  Lord  De  Courcy,  both  thinking  of  him  who  slept, 
"  after  life's  fitful  fever,"  in  his  lonely  hillside  grave.  There, 
too,  was  Marguerite,  calmer  and  less  despairing-looking  now, 
though  her  wild,  dark  eyes  were  deeply  mournful  still.  By 
her  side  was  her  dainty,  tossy,  brightly-dressed  little  daughter, 
inwardly  thanking  her  stars  to  get  iiome  once  more.  And 
thus  they  all  stand  before  you  now,  dear  reader,  receding 
far  dowr*  in  the  blue  horizon.  One  more  glimpse,  and  you 
will  see  them  no  more. 

At  the  White  Squall  still  lives  Admiral  Harry  Havenful, 
who  sits  in  his  parlor,  gazing  on  the  pink-and-straw-colored 
man-of-war,  and  smokes  his  pipe  placidly,  as  he  walks  down 
the  serene  pathway  leading  to  old  age.  On  fine  days  Mr. 
Toosypegs  always  comes  to  see  him,  and  there  dilates  for 
hours  on  the  manifold  beauties  and  attractions  of  Lady  Rita, 
to  whom  he  intends  to  be  faithful  as  long  as  he  lives.  Mr. 
Toosypegs  never  will  get  married.  He  says  he  intends  con- 
secrating his  life  to  the  memory  of  the  sparkling  little  comet 
that  once  flashed  across  his  sky,  and  then  disappeared  for- 
ever. Mr.  O.C.Toosypegs'  anguish  and  despair  have  subsided 
now  to  a  calm,  serene  melancholy,  seldom  relieved  by  a 
smile,  but  by  no  means  distressing  to  witness.  He  and  the 
admiral  continue  to  do  good  in  their  own  simple,  unobtrusive 
way,  and  find  their  chief  delight  in  reading  the  letters  they 
sometimes  receive  from  Erminie  and  Pet.  Judge  Lawless 
lives  in  solitary  grandeur  at  Heath  Hill,  the  "  Grand  Sei- 
gneur "  of  Judestown  still.  Miss  Priscilla  resides  in  gloomy 
state  at  Dismal  Hollow,  and  continues  to  murder  the  king's 
English  and  scold  Orlando  severely  every  day,  which  casti- 
gations  he   bears  with  evident  meekness.     Reader,  to  our 


hopeless- 

;,  private- 
ds  of  the 
mony  the 
;  down  to 
Drld. 

Iiore  they 
r's  deck, 
aning  on 
od  Lady 
'ho  slept, 
There, 
:ing  now, 
till.  By 
laughter, 
e.  And 
receding 
and  you 

[avenful, 
/-colored 
ks  down 
lays  Mr. 
iates  for 
dy  Rita, 
iS.  Mr. 
nds  con- 
le  comet 
ared  for- 
jubsided 
;d  by  a 

and  the 
ibtrusive 
:ers  they 
Lawless 
ind  Sei- 

gloomy 
;e  king's 
ch  casti- 
,  to  our 


CHIEFLV  MATRIMONIAL. 


399 


friends  in  Judestown,  you  have  bidden  an  eternal  farewell. 
Ray  Germaine  has  risen  to  rank  and  wealth  in  his  profession, 
and  his  handsome  wife  is  the  leader  of  the  ton  in  the  city 
where  she  resides,  and  excites  in  turn  the  wonder  and  admira- 
tion and  envy  of  every  one  who  knows  her.  Marriage  has 
subdued  her  wildness  a  little,  but  not  eradicated  it ;  and  oui 
Pet  is  the  happiest  little  lady  in  existence.  There  is  a 
miniature  Pet  there,  too — a  saucy  little  limb  already,  who 
promises  to  be  a  second  edition  of  wild  Pet  Lawless,  in  deeds 
as  well  as  in  looks. 

Lady  Erminie  and  Mr.  Lawless  reside  hi  England,  for 
the  Countess  De  Courcy  will  not  part  with  her  daughter. 

Little  Lady  Rita  has  married  a  Spanish  grandee — a  Don 
John  somebody,  and  gone  to  live  in  her  own  "  castle  in  Spain." 
Marguerite  has  accompanied  her  to  that  sunny  land. 

The  Earl  and  Countess  De  Courcy,  loved  and  honored, 
pass  happily  through  life  together.  Their  latter  days  promise 
to  be  as  bright  with  sunshine  as  their  early  ones  were  dark 
and  troubled.  Reader,  to  all  these,  too,  and  I  fear  not 
unreluctantly,  you  must  bid  farewell. 

TU£  END. 


